The Ballad of Sin
by TheMadCat
Summary: An attempt to create and chronicle the lives of Leliana and her master Marjolaine during their time together as bards in Orlais and the political discord that allows for such an order to thrive. Rated M for violence and suggestive themes. Enjoy.
1. Prologue

_**Prologue**_

The sorrowful humming of a lamentation echoed throughout the large hall of the crowded chantry, emanating from a line of people who stood in front of the alter facing the massed crowd, burning candles clasped in their hands. All of them dressed in dark and mournful garb, the faces of the wealthier individuals covered with masks shaped to that of tragedy while the rest had their faces painted in various patterns and color of gloom and sorrow. It was a day of mourning for the small town, their beloved lady had passed on and it was time to pay her body a final respect and to bid her spirit a last farewell as it moved on into the Fade. The line standing in front of the alter consisted of men, woman, and children all of whom were members of her family or very close friends. Behind them was the alter, a large statue of holy Andraste standing against the wall with a long marble pedestal underneath her, resting on top of that pedestal was the body of the lady draped with a veil of linen. The crowd that had gathered was varied; nobles, merchants, burghers, and peasants all separated in their own little groups, the higher their class the closer to the alter they stood.

Along the back wall of the chantry she stood tall, her eyes focused exclusively on the alter and pedestal. Mixed in with the various peasantry and other lower class she easily stood out, their ordinary sack cloth clothing paling greatly to her ornate dress. They paid her little mind though, their thoughts focused too greatly on the ceremony before them to bother with trivial curiosities.

"Was this your doing?"

Marjolaine turned her attention towards the elderly man standing besides her, giving him nothing but a blank stare. "Such a rude and unfitting question to ask," she answered with a snap of her tongue.

"Come now, let us not play this fools game of innocence and declination."

Marjolaine studied the tall, thin man; balding gray hair and a thin mustache under his nose, his face lined and wrinkled with age, his features dull and lifeless much like his milky brown eyes. He was an aristocrat however, dressed in elegant yet mournful attire with a thick oak cane grasped tightly in his right hand and planted firmly in the ground, using it to support his ailing body, his crippled right leg forcing him to trudge along with an obvious limp. "No I did not have anything to do with this." Quickly she turned her attention back upon the body resting atop the pedestal. "I was quite acquainted with Lady Cecile as you well know, I am simply here to pay my respects to a good friend."

"A few private meetings and a couple of shared words does not make one good friends. Perhaps in your case though you take what you can get. So how has Janine been treating you my dear, I do not believe I have spoken to you since she took you in."

"I am sure you are quite aware of how she treats me," she muttered angrily.

"Now now, she is not that bad. She simply expects success and obedience and punishes failure, you could learn from her."

Marjolaine glared at him for a brief moment before common sense got the better of her and she returned to the ceremony. "It goes far beyond that, Lord Avere. Though I hold no doubts that you know exactly what I am speaking of."

"Just remember you brought this upon yourself," Avere muttered softly. "So tell me, in the sake of our friendship of course, who arranged this?"

"I do not attend the funerals of those I have, dispatched of," she hesitated with the last two words.

"Of course not. Well, except for one."

Marjolaine gritted her teeth and closed her eyes, anger and frustration boiling inside of her. After a moment though she managed to calm herself, realizing it best not to try and strike at a snake. "Is there a reason you have sought me out Lord Avere? Or are you here to simply further the baseless accusations and continue the slander of my name."

"Slander of your name?" Avere sarcastically asked behind a light chuckle. "My dear you have done well in accomplishing this on your own. But do understand I hold no grudge against a beauteous young lady looking to further herself in order to obtain her aspirations. Business is business, I am quite understanding of this. Whether it was done by your hands or not is of little concern to me."

"I thank you for both the kindness and forgiveness my lord. However surely you did not hobble your way to me for simple endearment."

"Curiosity and our business, nothing more."

"The latter has already been satisfied."

"Oh? Pray tell."

"I gave the Ferelden's the location of the camp, an ambush and slaughter shortly followed suit. Whether or not the one you wanted dead is indeed dead I do not know, but I was assured none survived."

Avere nodded his head as he turned and joined Marjolaine's gaze upon the body. "It is crucial that he is dead, otherwise little will actually be gained from this. Was it discreet?"

"Oh yes. As far as Ferelden is concerned the information came from a simple yet loyal peasant girl who had stumbled upon a forward encampment of Orlesian troops and supplies. As far as Orlais is concerned it is much the same, the group had been careless and was spotted and as devastating a blow as it was, it was out of their control and unavoidable. As for your specific man, I shall investigate further just to be sure but I do believe he is dead."

"Good," Avere said with another approving nod. "At the very least this will quell any more aggressive moves on Ferelden for a time. But he must be dead otherwise this was all for naught. Find out for certain, if he lives deal with it."

"Of course," Marjolaine replied plainly.

"Once you know for certain he is dead I will send the rest of the coin to Janine."

Marjolaine glanced at him nervously. "Janine will never accept that offer."

"Well she has no choice now does she?"

"I suppose not."

"Good girl, do give the woman my regards however. Now, why are you here?"

"Paying my respects to an old friend, as I have said."

"I know you better than that. You are the most obdurate woman I have ever met."

"If that is what you think than you do not know me as well as you believe." Marjolaine snapped as she turned and glared at the elderly man. "If your business with me is done I must politely ask that you take your leave my lord."

Avere did not oblige to her wish, instead he simply stepped to the side to give himself a bit more distance from her. "I understand you have been working closely with Duralle. Against Janine's wishes mind you," he muttered softly. "A good boy, charming, skillful at what he does."

"An occasional assistance when the need arises, how I go about my job is of no concern to Janine."

"I see. So this arrangement, is it strictly business or is there a more, personal attachment?"

Marjolaine sneered. "Are you still upset at what he has done to you?"

"Forgive and forget my dear, forgive and forget. I am a man understanding of the grand game, and I understand I have made mistakes along the way, that one being the most dire."

"Is that so? Most men are not quite as forgiving as yourself."

"Of that I do not disagree. They feel the game serves them alone, that they are the sole masters and everything is under their complete control. Then when the fools get bit they become shocked as it if was an act of treason and indecency against them."

Marjolaine grinned as she turned and faced the old man. "I remember it quite differently."

"Of course the initial shock was a bit, upsetting. Shortly after I managed to look past it however." Avere stared into her cold, piercing gaze and smiled. "So are you here for business or pleasure? Or have the two become one in the same for you?"

"You are not quite as charming as you believe yourself to be," Marjolaine muttered. "I have already said what I will say on the matter. My business is my own and I am under no obligation to share it with you."

"Let us not forget all I have done for you my dear. The very least you can do is share your intentions."

"I consider the silence Duralle and myself have maintained on the subject of your transgressions to be well more than enough repayment for your 'generosity'."

Avere shook his head and began hobbling his way towards the center aisle of the chantry, purposely brushing against her as he passed her by. "Do not forget your task," he muttered behind a stern face as he slowly made his way to the front of crowd.

Marjolaine watched as he limped away, a feeling of disgust settling in her stomach. She abhorred the man; arrogant, diabolical, and twisted yet at the same time he was sharp, cunning, and more importantly powerful. As much as she despised the man he was a great person to have on ones side and in Orlais that was the greatest asset one could obtain.

Her attention returned to the ceremony at the front, the somber atmosphere and beautiful tribute helping to push the thought of that man out of her mind. The lamentation had come to an end; those who had been singing now knelt on a knee, their hands folded together and there heads bowed to the floor as the reverend of the chantry, an elder and scrawny woman, led a prayer of mourning she was unfamiliar with. Behind her a small choir of men quietly sung the Chant of Light in a way that added emphasis onto the prayer. Shortly that too came to an end however and was followed by a deep moment of silence and hushed prayer, the ambiance inside the Chantry falling deathly still. Finally the revered mother slowly began climbing down the steps as the four chanters once more began their song as they lifted the elegant wooden slab the body had been resting on, following the priests exact steps at the same pace. Immediately behind them those who had sung the lamentation followed closely behind, their candles still in hand and there heads down. As they passed another row then they fell in behind them, and so on.

Marjolaine gave a sorrowful sigh as the body passed next to her, the elderly woman would be peacefully asleep for the eternity that laid before them all. She closed her eyes and bowed her head in respect, she did hold a bit of admiration for the old woman, at least as much as she allowed herself to hold for any individual. After a moment she opened her eyes and stared up once more, her attention now falling upon a young girl in the procession donned in a small dark dress, an elaborate headdress resting upon her head, her face painted with dark hues and a candle resting in the palm of her hands. Her eyes continued to follow the girl until she walked through the large doors of the chantry, vanishing into light of the outside world.

Eventually it came time for Marjolaine to fall in line with the procession and she did, following it until they were outside the chantry and then she casually broke away from the crowd. She did not walk away quite yet though, instead she stood her ground and watched as they marched on until slowly the procession began to disappear as they followed the cobblestone road down a hill on their way to a pyre outside the city. As the last of the group finally disappeared she turned herself around and began to traverse the street, making her way towards the village nestled between two large fallows.

The village was for the most part lifeless, most of the occupants still mourning the loss of their lady. A few children could be seen playing in the streets, an occasional shop stall open and attended, a couple of citizens strolling down the street for whatever reason. It was a quaint little place, typical for a minor land owner such as Cecile. The buildings made exclusively of timber which functioned as homes and workshops, a small market place in the center which consisted of nothing but stalls and tents, various mills running along the the stream that flowed in front of the entrance. The only thing worthy of note was the manor that stood atop a hill just outside the village, large and lavish as most aristocrats preferred their homes to be. Stone walls and glass windows, both a rarity outside of the major cities, it was quite an elegant structure and soon it would be raging with the inferno that is Orlesian politics.

Marjolaine made her way to the hostel located near the center of the village, one of the larger structures that could be seen. An ugly large building of wood, dotted with oil-parchment windows and inside it was no better. A large fireplace set along one of the walls with a few chairs that formed a half circle in front of it. Square tables made of a cheap wood sat in random spots, the walls plain aside from an occasional painting and bits of poor tapestry. It wasn't quite the quality Marjolaine was accustomed too but in such a place it was the best there was. Near the corner of the room sat a bar, behind it three young men stood all peeking interestingly at her. Marjolaine smiled at their obvious ogling, she enjoyed seizing the eyes of men as she entered a room. Slowly she made her way towards the stairs, shortening her steps and tightening her walk in order to add onto the intrigue of the young men. Years ago it was taught that her body could be used as a weapon, it could bring down warriors and kings, crumble cults and nations, and destroy an army. While the possibilities may have been greatly exaggerated she had learned over time the basis of the lesson proved quite true and she made sure to employ it as often as possible, never knowing when a favor may be needed.

Up the stairs and into a narrow hallway she made her way to the door which led into her room. Standing in front of it a moment she took several deep breaths and closed her eyes as she relaxed herself. As soon as she felt herself ready she gently pushed open the door and stepped into the ordinary room, her eyes immediately falling upon a middle aged woman who sat at a table picking away at a plate of poultry and cheese.

"You have been gone longer than I had allowed."

"Forgive me Mistress Janine," Marjolaine responded softly as she bowed her head. "I lost track of time."

"I do not want to hear an excuse," The woman snapped as she looked up at Marjolaine for the first time since she had entered the room. "Did you speak with Lord Avere?"

"Yes," Marjolaine answered quickly and quietly. She looked up and met the woman's hazel colored eyes. "He asked that I send you his regards."

"Bah, I do not care for such follies. Did he give you word on when he would deliver the coin?"

"He." Marjolaine paused as she gulped. "I was asked to confirm that the man was indeed dead."

Janine sighed and then slammed her fork on the table. "Why did you not see to this already?"

"I did my best. But it was impossible for me to do anything aside from taking word." A silence hung between the two of them, Marjolaine could see her contemplating on something. Janine was her bard master, rigid and vicious , doing whatever she felt was necessary in order to make sure she maintained complete control over the usually confident and strong Marjolaine.

"See to it that it is completed quickly. You have wasted enough time on this foolish errand."

"I will see to it immediately."

"Now leave. You need to be at the manor when the aristocracy are there, listen in and see if you can find anything of interest."

"Yes Mistress Janine." Marjolaine bowed and stared at her a moment longer as she returned to her eating. She was an aging woman, wrinkles starting to dominate her face, her soft brown hair now streaked with bits of gray, her girth starting to widen, Janine was utterly useless as a bard but excelled at the intricate game of politics and that alone made her quite popular amongst the liaisons and proxies. Quickly she turned and left the room, slamming the door as she walked out, feeling the anger stirring within Janine as a consequence.

Marjolaine left the hostel and walked back out into the village, peering around once more as she stepped out onto the streets. Many of the villagers were starting to return, their time of mourning coming to an abrupt end. The aristocrats were returning as well, far behind the peasants and burghers, walking together clumped in a tight group with a few soldiers encircled around them. She eyed them a moment but shrugged away any thought. The manor was open to all due to the passing of the lady and she would have no problem walking right in and conducting her business, most of the nobility would be far to busy quarreling over the scraps to notice or care anyways. Still, that was a passing thought as she had other, more personal business to deal with. In the back she caught a glimpse of Avere struggling to keep up with the crowd, his wife and four children surrounding him, assisting him whenever possible. The feeling of disgust began to creep back in her stomach as she watched the snake of a man slink on, no doubt preparing himself to feast upon the others as the time for settlements and endowments approached. Suddenly a hand fell on her shoulder, abruptly breaking her concentration. She turned around franticly only to find herself staring into the dark blue eyes of a tall and strapping young man with short, dark brown hair and a clean cut face donned in a set of stubbed leather armor, standing there over her with an amicable smile. Marjolaine grinned as she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him down, pressing her lips against his, her grin widening as she pulled away, her heart and breathing racing from exuberance. "Maker's Breath, what has brought you to this place?" she asked in a heavy whisper.

The man stood back up and shrugged. "You," he replied plainly.

Marjolaine grasped his hands and quickly led him towards a small alleyway between the hostel and a workshop of sorts. Once the end was reached she looked around making sure they were out of common sight and then gazed upon his face once more. "Are you mad, if Avere finds that you are here he will have your head. And if Janine catches word."

Duralle chuckled at the mention of the two names. "Avere? Janine? What reason is there for me to fear a cripple and a swine?" As Marjolaine prepared an answer he pressed a finger against her lips and slowly shook his head. "Do not fret, neither of them will ever know I am here."

Marjolaine felt his finger glide across her face and neck, his words and touch a vain attempt at calming her. "Please, be truthful with me. Why did you come?"

Duralle smiled and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Tonight will be a proud night for you and I wanted to be here to share it. Avere and Janine of are no concern to me, these other fools with land and coin are of no concern." He felt her head fall and rest against his chest, looking down at her he watched as a relaxed smile come across. Softly he began stroking her dark silky hair helping to put her more at ease. "This child you discussed before you left, have you spoken to her?"

Marjolaine looked up at him. "No, not yet. I will soon."

Duralle released her from his arms and leaned back against the wall of a building, rubbing his face as he sent himself deep in thought. "Are you sure this is a good idea? You know little of her and she is not some child of the streets."

"I know all I need to know. She has what is necessary and everything else I will teach her."

"Perhaps, but she is a child of nobility, how can you bring her away from that."

"She is no child of Cecile or any noble. She is the daughter of some simple servant and for some reason went under the care of Cecile. She will be convinced."

"You seem confident in that. I just hope you know what you are doing, she is young and in good care."

Marjolaine grinned and laughed. "When did your heart become so soft, especially for one you know nothing about. Remember I was younger than she when I was trained."

"Yes but you were found an orphan living in the gutter of Val Royeaux, a little different than being under the patronage of an aristocrat," he watched as her expression quickly dimmed. "Forgive me, I did not mean it as disrespect. You do what you must and I will do what I can to support it."

"I will not force it upon her if that eases your conscious. A simple offer, nothing more. If she refuses than I will find another."

"That is not what I am worried about. I am worried about how much attention snatching a child such as her would bring."

"Snatch?" Marjolaine chuckled. "What is it you are comparing me to?"

"You know what I mean."

Marjolaine pressed a hand against his chest then stood on her toes and allowed a deep kiss between them to linger. "Trust me," she whisper as she pulled back an inch.

"Trust you? Trust Marjolaine?" Duralle gave her a jestful smile. "I know what happens to people who trust you so as tempting an offer as it is, I must regretfully pass."

Marjolaine slapped him hard in the chest as she slowly and seductively backed away. "And where will you resting this eve?"

"Take the road south a ways and you will come across a thick woodland on your right. Head in a bit and you will run into a large clearing, I have a small camp set there."

"Perfect." Marjolaine responded joyfully. "Then tonight we shall celebrate and carouse as we have never done before. Fruit and wine as we dance around the fire under the moon and stars."

Duralle watched her with a smile as she gracefully glided around the narrow alley as if she was dancing by herself. It was odd watching her when she got like this, giddy as a young girl in love for the first time, which was true in her case he supposed. She was quite young, still in her late teens and as far as he knew she never had a real love. It just seemed strange coming from a woman who had killed many of the man and woman she ever shared a bed with, a woman who seemed to receive more satisfaction from their taking a life then from their acts of pleasure. "Be careful with that, someone may mistake us for witches and apostates. I would hate for our evening to be ruined by a horde of Templar's storming upon us."

"Let them come," she muttered softly as she fell into his arms once more.

"As bellicose as always I see. Personally I have grown rather fond of having my head attached to my shoulders, and I must say you would not look quite as stunning without yours."

Marjolaine smiled as she rested her head against his chest once more, listening carefully to the beating of his heart. "Tonight we shall revel in our victory and then make love until the break of day. Tomorrow, tomorrow everything will be different."

"Indeed it will." Duralle sighed and looked towards the end of the alley making sure no one stood there watching. "So you are aware I may not be at the camp when you arrive, I do have something that must be taken care of."

Marjolaine looked up at him. "Avere?"

"Nothing of the sorts, I promise. It is just something that must be taken care of."

"I see."

Duralle smiled and brushed his hand against her cheek. "Never have I let you down before and I will not start now. Chances are I will be there waiting patiently for your arrival, but if I am not I did not want you to worry."

Marjolaine returned the smile with one of her own as she backed away. "I should be going, Janine expects me to be there when the lords and ladies begin their disputes over the endowment." As she backed away a bit further she bowed her head. "Until tonight."

"Until tonight."

Several hours had passed since Marjolaine joined the aristocrats at the ladies manor, all of them gathered together in a grand hall. The room itself was massive and elegant, the walls covered with a blue linen with beautiful tapestries, decorative weaponry, and exquisite paintings resting over it. Parts of the floor covered with dyed rush, a gold and silver chandelier hanging from the ceiling above, and a grand fireplace embedded in the furthermost wall, it's roaring fire supplying more then enough light for the room. In the center of the room a colossal trestle table was being set up and decorated by various elves and humans, the aroma of various cooked meats and seasonings filling the air, a feast was being prepared as a final commendation for the lady who had passed.

Marjolaine had spent the time politely mingling with the various aristocrats, flirting with those who gained a lascivious look in their eyes as she approached. Most here knew her well, or at the very least knew of her storied reputation. Still, her infamy did not deter them from desiring the company the lovely Marjolaine, whether for a simple chat or for more intimate desires. A few of the men who had come alone offered her their beds for the night,gracefully though she turned down their invitations. It always surprised her how willing so many were to lay with her for an evening despite knowing the many rumors and stories that revolved around her, perhaps the thrill and pleasure was just too much for them to pass.

Eventually she isolated herself from the crowd after catching sight of Avere slowly limping his way across the room in her direction. It was best to deal with him alone, he had a habit of making her quite uncomfortable when amongst company. "Lord Avere," she spoke and bowed once he was within vocal distance. "It is an honor for you to grace me with your presence once more."

"None of your games woman, you have no business here."

"Why is that Lord Avere?" Marjolaine asked sarcastically. "If I am not mistaken the manor is open to all who knew Lady Cecile and cherished her dearly."

"A handful of brief meetings does not constitute knowing and cherishing her," Avere snapped. "I want you out before I summon the guard."

"Such hostility is not needed my lord, especially since these lands do not belong to you." Marjolaine grinned and with tight steps walked upon him, caressing his leathery face. "I am here to pay final respects, nothing more."

Avere batted her hands away and glowered. "I will see you thrown out."

"Oh?" Marjolaine looked over the old mans shoulder, her eyes settling upon a young, dark haired, and overweight man. "Come, let us see." She brushed against him as she walked by, making her way towards the large man who stood idly. "Lord Hervé." She said gleefully as she threw her arms around the man. "Forgive my informalities Lord Hervé, it has just been so long since we have seen each other I could not contain my excitement."

"Err," Hervé stared at her a moment blankly. "Do I. Oh I do remember you, Marjolaine correct."

Marjolaine smiled and bowed her head. "I am honored that you remember my name."

"Oh I could never forget a lady such as yourself. I am glad you could come at such a somber time, it is good to see my mother had such admiration from so many."

"You have my condolences lord, she was a great woman who has touched many of us."

"Indeed." Hervé watched as Avere slowly hobbled up behind Marjolaine. "Lord Avere, it is nice to see you as well."

"Thank you, your host has been most gracious to me and my family Lord Hervé." Avere muttered..

"Nonsense, it is the least I could do for such honorable guests." Once his words were done Hervé turned his attention back upon the young lady standing close in front. "I do not believe we have met since the untimely passing of your husband, you have my sympathy, however late it is."

Marjolaine lowered her head and bit her lip, preparing for some snide remark to come about from Avere. To her surprise however there was nothing but silence from the elder so she looked backed up with a hollow smile. "Thank you lord, it was tragic."

"Again you have my deepest sympathy, may Andraste comfort his spirit." Hervé sighed and smiled. "Now is there anything I can do for you, are the accommodations befitting of a lady such as yourself?"

"Actually Lord Hervé." Avere interjected before she had a chance to speak. "If I may be so bold, it would be best if she was escorted off of your families estate. She is no member of the aristocracy and has a reputation you are no doubt aware of."

"I have done nothing to offend anyone my lord. I have traveled all the way from Val Royeaux to bid farewell to a dear friend."

"She is a knave and a fiend Lord Hervé," Avere asserted with a tone surpassing hers. "Mark my word she will bring about dire troubles."

"I will do no such thing," Marjolaine uttered in her defense. "My lord, I am here to mourn and nothing more." She moved in closer, letting her breasts rub against his arm as she walked around him, her hand gently brushing against his back side. "I am not asking for anything except the privilege to join in on the ladies final goodbye." She stood behind the man, peering over his broad shoulder at Avere, a coy yet seductive look radiating from her face. The old mans face twisted and turned with anger and rage, he knew he had been bested and it made him burn inside.

"Lord Hervé," Avere started.

"Enough Avere, the lady has done nothing here to warrant such an assault. When we are on the lands and within the walls of the d'Allemagne family then you may do as you wish. But for now you shall remain silent and act as a gracious guest should."Hervé turned around and smiled as he extended a hand. "Come my dear, you shall accompany me at the head of the table."

"You are far too kind to me Lord Hervé." Marjolaine replied bashfully as she accepted his hands. She turned and watched the face of the old man twist even more as he stormed off, the loud clanking that came from his cane smashing into the floor with each step he took was a good indication of the anger swelling inside of him. It took an effort but she managed to contain her laughter within a blithe grin.

The deep bellow of a horn echoed throughout the hall signaling for the guests to take their seats. A white linen cloth had been laid out across the table, silver set in front of every seat and various flower arrangements dotted along the center of the table. Everyone stood tall besides their chair, hands clasped and heads down, as Hervé delivered a lengthy eulogy. Once completed there was a toast in her name and they took their seats, servants rushing from person to person filling their chalices or dropping bits of food on their plates.

She had been to many balls and gatherings such as this, the atmosphere usually being much more jubilant. Words and laughter would be shared as music was played and songs sung, lords and ladies occasionally rising for a quick dance. It was quite different this time; a heavy silence dominated the room, the tapping of silver against plates, random bits of banter or a stray laugh occasionally alleviating the somber feel plaguing the atmosphere.

Marjolaine glanced around at the nobility as they all casually picked at their plates or sipped from their chalices, most still wearing their face paint, head dresses, and mourning apparel. Many of them discreetly peered at her with looks of both intrigue and fear, curious as to why she was here and why she sat at the head of the table. Anxiety no doubt crept through their minds as thought that blood may be spilled tonight seeped in. Their fears seemed to be outweighing their curiosity though, the discreet glances soon came to a halt aside from a few who seemed more then willing to test her and her reputation. Unfortunately she would have to disappoint them for the night, there were far more relevant matters that required her attention. "How about a song my lord?"

Hervé looked to his side curiously. "That is not very appropriate all things considered."

"A simple song would do no harm. Your guests appear to be quite disinterested, a song would ease the tension and give them something to talk about."

Hervé scanned across sides of the table and sighed. "Perhaps you are right. Regrettably I have no minstrels or trouvères on hand."

"A pity. Though I do recall Cecile having a child under her care and she frequently had her preform for her guests, would she not suffice?"

"Child? Leliana?" Hervé snickered. "She is hardly worthy of performing for such esteemed guests."

"Oh? I remember her to be quite enchanting."

Hervé sighed as viewed the faces of his guests once more. "I suppose she will suffice," he muttered as he raised a hand and waved a young elven maiden over.

Marjolaine watched the lord besides her whisper in the elves ear and then sent her off. She followed the elf as she gracefully left the room before turning her attention back upon the table in front of her, at the far end the familiar eyes of Avere beamed directly at her. She met his stare with her own, grinning in revel as she pondered on the thoughts racing through his mind. She wondered if he was scared, trembling underneath that smug composure..

The elf returned a few minutes later, leading the young girl to the end of the table opposite of Marjolaine. Still dressed as she was earlier, her face still painted and that elaborate headdress still nestled upon the crown of her head.

"Good," Hervé muttered as he raised his chalice. "Sing us a song child."

Marjolaine looked across the table, studying the girl as best she could from such a distance. She seemed a bit flustered by the abrupt request but she gathered herself and stood as tall as she could, though that wasn't much.

"What song would you like Lord Hervé?"

Marjolaine listened to the high pitched words of the young girl, admiring at how well composed she appeared to be.

"It matters not, something fitting. Perhaps sing one of my mothers favorites," Hervé responded to the child's inquiry.

"As you wish my lord." The child bowed her head then stood tall once more. There was a bit of silence as she let the words gather and the rhythm dance in her mind. Then suddenly with another bow she began to sing, soft and sweet...

_''She walks in the beauty, like the night_

_Of cloudless climes and starry skies;_

_And all that is best of dark and bright_

_Meet in her aspect and her eyes:_

_Thus mellowed to that tender light_

_Which from the heavens to gaudy day denies._

_One shade the more, one ray the less,_

_Had half impaired the nameless grace_

_Which waves in every ravens tree,_

_Of softly lightens of her face;_

_Where thoughts serenely sweet express_

_How pure, how dear their dwelling-place._

_And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,_

_So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,_

_The smiles that win, the tints that glow,_

_But tell of days in goodness spent,_

_A mind at peace with all below,_

_A heart whose love is innocent._

_When we two parted_

_In silence and tears,_

_Half broken-hearted_

_To sever the years,_

_Pale grew thy cheek and cold,_

_Colder, thy kiss;_

_Truly that hour foretold_

_Sorrow to this._

_The dew of the morning_

_Sunk, chill on my brow,_

_It felt like the warning_

_Of what I feel now._

_Thy vows are all broken, _

_And light is thy fame;_

_I hear thy name spoke,_

_And share in its shame._

_They name thee before me,_

_A knell to my ear;_

_A shudder comes o'er me..._

_Why wert thou so dear?_

_They know not I knew thee,_

_Who knew thee too well.._

_Long, long shall I rue thee,_

_Too deeply to tell._

_In secret we meet_

_In silence I grieve_

_That thy heart could forget,_

_Thy spirit deceive._

_If I should meet thee_

_After long years,_

_How should I greet thee?_

_With silence and tears.''_

As the song went one Marjolaine let her eyes wander about the room, from the girl to the faces of the aristocrats the the servants standing along the wall. The child was magnificent and was that reflected in the looks of awe and confound that lingered in their expressions. It was just as she remembered it years ago, singing out her heart and leaving the room enchanted and dumbfounded. Even Marjolaine herself had been taken by surprise at the child's talents.

Then the song gracefully came to an end, the child simply bowed and left. It took a few moments for the aristocracy to gather themselves, no doubt reeling from shock and the skillful work of one so young. A few applauds even came about, a rarity from people who felt nothing was to good for them. She watched as the child left, as composed and as tall as when she had sung. A proud child.

Time had drug on as the day was beginning to die. The aristocrats had all convened into a private room for the reading of the will and to spend hours upon hours arguing over who got what scraps, contriving and conniving in order to gain bits of pieces they were never entitled to own. Marjolaine stood along the wall that separated herself and the nobility, hoping to catch a revealing shout or a passionate argument. But the stone wall allowed no words to pass and the door the led into the room was guarded by two soldiers donned in their elegant plate armor and brandishing ornate halberds, there more for looks and menace than practicality. There being no point in standing there accomplishing nothing she turned her attention towards the large fireplace embedded into the wall, a small figure sitting there alone, silently gazing upon it's radiant glow. A smile crossed her face as she crossed the hall, plotting and planning her words and offer.

"You sing beautifully," Marjolaine spoke softly as she crept behind the girl. Almost immediately the child jumped from her chair and began to bow but she waved her off. "There is no need for that, I am no blue blood. Come, sit back down." Marjolaine watched as the girl obeyed her order and then took a seat besides her. "I am sorry for your loss, Lady Cecile was a good woman." She caught a glimpse of tears trickling down the girls cheek and after the child showed a bit of hesitation she allowed her to gently brush them away. "You know it is rude not to talk to your company, I know Cecile of all people would have taught you that."

"Thank you," the girl replied through a sorrowful tone.

Marjolaine smiled. "You should not mourn so, death will catch us all at some point. You should remember and cherish the happy times you shared, hold them dear to your heart and never forget otherwise your life will be full of sorrow and grief. But now I have forgotten my manners, I am Marjolaine."

The girl hesitated a moment before nodding her head, a hint of a smile breaking through her mournful expression. "I am Leliana," she replied softly.

"I know," Marjolaine stated simply. "I have seen you preform in the past, we have even met once or twice. Cecile was quite proud of you, she would brag and boast about this talented little girl she had groomed and taught herself. She had quite an admiration for you considering you were not kin. Dare I say she even loved you more then her own children." The girl turned away from her as the sobbing returned. "Come now," she said as she rose from her seat and took a knee in front of the girl, brushing away her tears once more in an attempt to console. At the same time she took the chance to study her facial features a bit more thoroughly. Soft blue eyes rimmed with dark blue paint, pout lips, soft cheeks, even bone structure, a dainty nose, and bits of her bright red hair springing free from the headdress. So long as she was well maintained she would blossom into a true beauty. "Do not weep little lady, this is not what Cecile would have wanted from you. She would have wanted to see you happy, to see you make others happy." Marjolaine tenderly stroked the child's cheek with the back of her hand, trying to console her with a look of warmth and care. "Lady Cecile told me how you love to sing and dance so let us find a quiet place to do just that, it will help cheer you up."

"You would like to watch me sing and dance?"

Marjolaine laughed and stood back up, taking the girls tiny hands in her own. "I am a minstrel, song and dance are my life's greatest joys." An eager smile shot across the child's face as she stood from her seat and led Marjolaine along through the decorative corridors of the estate until they reached the her room. It was a quaint little chamber, not as lavish as the rooms of the nobility but it was far beyond anything a commoner would be accustomed to. A small hay bed with cloth sheets, a few pieces of modest pine furniture and some simple toys and instruments. The walls covered in a soft blue linen and a few small paintings hung about. Marjolaine walked about and studied them all, one in particular catching her attention. "Who is this portrait of?" She asked she examined it a bit more closely. A young woman with long red hair posed with a somber look, resembling Leliana a bit.

"My mother," Leliana answered softly. "After she passed away Lady Cecile hired someone to paint a portrait of her by memory and for my birthday she gave it to me as a gift. But they got her nose and eyes wrong."

"I see. She was... Is quite lovely." Marjolaine saw the look in the girls eyes and figured it best to change the subject. "I see you have quite a few books, strange for someone of your age. Can you read and write?"

"Of course. How else would I learn songs, poetry, and stories."

"Indeed." Marjolaine chuckled as she prepared herself to speak in a foreign tongue. "Tell me, what language am I speaking?"

"Antivan."

"Very impressive. Lady Cecile as raised you very well." Marjolaine said astonished by the child's knowledge.

Leliana blushed and smiled. "You said you were a minstrel, can you teach me new songs and stories?"

"I am sure I know something that your ears have yet to hear."

Time slipped by, minutes to hours with the hours feeling like minutes. They enjoyed their time together, Leliana laughing and giggling as she sung and danced the night away while Marjolaine played one of the various instruments the child had in her room, occasionally joining in with her on a song or dance. They shared stories of love and heroism, songs of joy and sorrow, and Marjolaine taught her the newest dances stemming from Val Royeaux, amazed at how nimble and light footed she was. This was nothing like the girl she had introduced herself to near the fireplace, instead of a steady flow of tears and frowns she now bore a constant smile and gleeful attitude.

"You are truly a gifted child," Marjolaine said as she sat down on the edge of the bed to catch her breath after a lengthy dance.

"Thank you," Leliana replied as she smiled and curtsied.

"So polite as well, though being under the tutelage of Cecile I suppose I should not expect any less." Once she had caught her breath she stood back up and smiled. "Sadly I must be leaving now."

For the first time since being accompanied by Marjolaine a look of sorrow came across Leliana's face. "Do you have to go, I was having so much fun."

"Yes, I am afraid I must. I have other affairs I must attend to tonight."

"Will you be here tomorrow then?"

"I am sorry, tomorrow I will be leaving for Val Royeaux."

"Oh," Leliana said in a disappointed tone as she sat down on the edge of her bed.

"Do you not enjoy yourself here?"

"I love it here. I loved being with Lady Cecile and she loved me but..."

"But her children do not share the same enthusiasm for you?"

Leliana looked up at her curiously. "What do you mean?"

Marjolaine chuckled and sat down besides her on the bed wrapping an arm around small frame. "It was not hard to tell with Hervé, the way he looked and spoke to you. Her other two sons are off to war I believe, but for some reason I feel it is no different with them. They are all jealous of you, taking so much of their mothers affection." She let the thought seep in her mind before speaking again. "You enjoy singing and dancing?"

"Very much."

"Well, perhaps you would like to come to Val Royeax with me."

Leliana looked up at her with a smile and wanted to shout in glee but she refrained herself knowing it to good to be true. "What for?"

Marjolaine laughed and gently shook her within her arm. "To prepare you to become a minstrel, what else. I will teach you everything I know, introduce you to some of the greatest songwriters and poets in Orlais. You will wear the finest dresses and the prettiest shoes as you travel all across Orlais and perhaps even beyond, performing for lords and ladies, at taverns and balls, maybe even kings and queens. You have such a talent and it would be a shame to see it wasted here."

Leliana grinned at the thought. "But I cannot just leave, can I?"

"That choice is only yours to make my dear. No one can tell you what is best for you, no one can tell you what you want to do."

"I love this place though, it is my home."

"I know. But the two people you held dearest here are now gone, is there anything of real worth here for you aside from memories." Marjolaine let her go and stood up. "But this is not a decision you need to make now. Think about it, sleep on it. Early tomorrow I will be leaving for Val Royeaux, if my offer entices you just meet me in front of the towns hostel, you do not need to bring anything as I will buy you all you need once we reach the city. If you feel this is the best place for you though then simply stay. Do what you feel is best, just do not discuss it with anyone. I would hate for you decision to be influenced by slander and bias. I must be going though, I enjoyed your company and hopefully I will see you tomorrow," She bowed her head and backed out of the room. "Pleasant dreams Leliana."

Night had once again come and engulfed the world; roads still and silent, homes and shops locked tightly with faint glows of light coming from the windows, the night sky bright and clear with the large moon dominating the heavens above. Marjolaine had been standing outside of the hostel for several minutes as she prepared herself, taking in constant deep breaths of the cool night air. Once she felt herself ready she entered the building and took a quick glance around before making her way towards the stairs. Unlike earlier the room was packed, filled with guests from the funeral not quite important enough to warrant a room at the manor. But these people were of little interest to her tonight, grander things were in motion.

"Any news?"

The words Marjolaine heard the moment she opened the door to the room. She glanced towards Janine who sat stiffly in her chair peering out an open window. Besides her stood her body guard, Urbain. A large, bald, hideous looking man with several glaring scars across his face and neck, a punishment received from Janine not too long ago. "Nothing of note Mistress Janine," she answered softly as she stepped into the room, closing the door behind her tightly.

"Nothing of note? Surely there was something of interest."

"I am afraid not. Petty bickering with nothing being accomplished, you know how the nobility are."

Janine turned and glowered at her. "You brought me to this lorn place for nothing? Wasting my precious time for petty bickering?"

"Forgive me," Marjolaine felt herself tremble as Janine's eyes fixated upon her. "I expected a bit more excitement, there usually is."

"Tell me Marjolaine, what have you been doing all of this time if there was nothing of worth to be found? I am sure you could have returned to be much sooner."

"I wanted to be thorough, mistress."

Janine nodded her head. "Urbain came across someone of interest earlier today. It appears Duralle is here as well, but you would certainly know nothing of that now would you."

Marjolaine closed her eyes and prepared herself for the worst. "No, I was not aware of that. With so many of the aristocracy here it would not surprise me."

Janine sighed and she rose from her seat and walked in front of Marjolaine, placing a calloused hand on her cheek. "Ah young love, it fills the brightest and sharpest young ladies with ignorance and carelessness. Why do you lie to me so my dear? Why do you take me for a fool?"

"I do no such thing."

Janine smiled and lowered her hand. "I have been good to you Marjolaine, I have taken you in when everyone else has shunned you. I have put a good roof over your head, I have given you purpose in life, I have allowed you to do what you love. And your payment for such generosity is failure, insubordination, and lies," she looked back up and locked onto Marjolaine's eyes. "But I suppose it is my fault, I have been far to lenient with you. We shall correct your flaws when we return to Val Royeaux though."

"If I may ask, is Duralle dead?"

"Oh no, not yet at least. That is another one of your problems that must be dealt with, he has become far to much of a distraction to your work. Perhaps I will send you to dispatch of him."

"If that is what you wish," Marjolaine said softly.

"So obedient now, it is amazing what a simple threat can do to ones attitude. Or perhaps this is another ruse, it is rather difficult to tell with you at times."

"It is a boon that has proven quite useful many times in my life."

"I am sure it has." Janine turned around and fell back into her chair and once more took to staring out the window. "I do not want this trip to be a complete waste. Go back and find a noble to bed with, see if you can make him squeal something of worth."

"Is there a particular one?"

"I do not care, I am just hoping to salvage something from this useless trip. Fetch me some wine and begone."

Marjolaine bowed her head, walked towards a table in the corner, and poured a bottle of wine into a small silver chalice. She took a deep breath then made her way towards Janine and offered her the chalice.

"Be a dear and take a sip for me."

Marjolaine nodded and obliged her mistresses command, taking a small sip and swallowing. She stood there and waited, the chalice gripped from the top in her left hand, her ring finger gently tapping the inside of the rim. She met Janine's eyes, the woman patiently waiting for any ill signs to come about.

"Good," Janine said as she took the chalice from Marjolaine's hand. "Before we leave tomorrow I want some of the coin Avere owes, if you have to pry it from his corpse then so be it."

Marjolaine nodded and smiled as she watched her raise the chalice to her lips. "Is there anything else?"

"Just do not let me down again."

Marjolaine turned around and made her way to the door, stopping and standing there with her hand on the handle as she heard a hoarse cough erupt from Janine. With a sinister grin she turned back around and stared at Janine, the woman gazing out the window oblivious to her now sealed fate. Around she turned once more, taking a seat at the table and watching as her master turned a scolding gaze upon her.

"What do you think you are doing?" Her eyes suddenly widened in horror as she saw the wicked demeanor in Marjolaine's expression. Quickly she jumped from her chair and threw the chalice of wine at Marjolaine, barely missing her. "Kill her! Run her through!" She shouted in a grating voice as she collapsed to her knees finding it increasingly difficult to breathe.

Marjolaine giggled as she watched the woman fall to the knees, her hands wrapping around her neck and she tried desperately to loosen her tightening throat. A quick glance at Urbain revealed the man standing there still as stone, horrified and bewildered. Soon however he did managed to break free of his terror induced trance, drawing his sword from it's sheath as he glided towards her. Marjolaine did not flinch, instead she simply smiled and raised her hand. "All I have to do is scream," she stated softly. "Half the men here will come rushing to this room, finding two dead women with you standing over the corpses."

Urbain grimaced as he looked down at Janine, continuing to linger on the edge of life and death with frantic gasps of air being the lone thing keep her alive. "I can tell them you did it."

"And who will they believe? The divine and delicate damsel lying motionless on the floor with a gash across her neck or the hideously disfigured brute standing over her corpse, bloody sword in hand?" She watched as he eased his stance a bit, his gaze franticly switching between her and Janine. "Killing me will not keep her alive, only the Maker knows why you would even want her to stay alive after what she has done to you. There is no need for loyalty, in a moment she will be dead, unable to punish you for disobeying her final command." Marjolaine rose from her chair and walked up the Urbain, gently lowering the sword with her hand so it pointed straight down. "Live or die, I may grant you either one." She whispered as she traced his scars with her fingers.

Urbain glowered at Janine one final time, still struggling to survive. Then he sheathed his weapon and spat on her face before storming out of the room.

Marjolaine smiled and took a knee besides her dying mistress. "Fortunately for you the chantry and pyre are already prepared. Though you have succeeded so well at living amongst the shadows your whole life no one may even care. Perhaps they will simply throw your corpse to the wolves, feed the beasts you held such an admiration for. That would be fitting." She grabbed the woman's thick chin and stared into her wide, bloodshot eyes. "I want you to look at me, I want to be the last thing you see in your final moments. The one who you constantly boasted to about being untouchable, the one whose life you have made miserable, the one who has been waiting for this moment for so long. Look at me, look at me and take the memory my face and bring it to the grave with you, remember it for all eternity." Soon the strained breathes ceased and the head held in her hands slumped. Again Marjolaine smiled, letting go of the head the head and watching it drop to the wooden floor with a thud.

Slowly she stood up and began tidying up the room, tending to anything that was disturbed during the minor scuffle. Once satisfied with the room she tended to Janine's body, undressing her and then stretched her out on the bed under the covers, giving the impression that the woman simply passed away peacefully in her sleep. Marjolaine couldn't help but smile once more, she had been waiting so long for this opportunity to present itself. With a grin and a chortle she left the room, out of a masters service for the final time.

"Insatiable woman!" Avere shouted as he hobbled his way out of his room. "I am going for a walk, be asleep on my return!" The old man closed the door behind him and adjusted his white satin robe to better cover himself and then began wandering throughout the halls of the manor, the sound of his cane tapping against the wooden floor echoing across corridors. Shortly after beginning his stroll however he paused still as stone, feeling as though he was being stalked through the dimly lit halls. Slowly he turned around and not much to his surprise he found a man standing there with in an intimidating pose just a short distance away. He took a few steps closer in order to seek a better view of his face, snickering at what the light came to reveal. "Either Lord Hervé has a tremendous lust for danger or he is a complete fool. Either way he appears destined to an early grave, perhaps I should marry one of my nieces off to him," he said, admiring the man as he stepped further into a lamps radiance, noting an anelace dangling from his belt. "I have seen quite a few of your kind within the estate, though I suppose it was to be expected. So good to see you again Duralle."

"Still having troubles with the fair wife I see," Duralle snickered. "Then again women never were a partiality of yours."

Avere ignored the remark and sighed. "So have you come to amend your failures or is this visit purely social."

"That greatly depends on you."

"Business then, a shame. You will have to forgive me, I have had enough of such nonsense for the day and would like to ease my nerves a bit, perhaps some other time long into the future. Now begone before I summon the guard."

Duralle suddenly lunged forward and kicked the cane out of Avere's hand, the old man immediately crumbling to the ground. Before Avere could make any frantic screams Duralle pounced and clasped his hand over the mans mouth, pressing his anelace against his throat. "This was not optional, either you speak and listen or you die." Duralle made a quick glance down the corridor and then looked back down upon his victim. "Janine is dead." He watched as Avere's eyes widened in disbelief. "The leash you threw around the beasts neck as been gnawed through and she is now roaming free. I will let you go, make a noise and I will finish you off."

"Help me up you fool," Avere snarled as the lad rose off from him. Duralle did as he was asked, fetching the cane and helping the man to his feet. He brushed himself off and then glowered with rage. "Fie on that mongrel bitch, what in the name of holy Andraste does she think she is doing!" Avere tiled back his head as he felt cold steel press against his neck. "Sheath your blade and I shall hear you out," he muttered softly, Duralle complying with the agreement. "Good lad. Now, why do the actions of Marjolaine concern you in the first place?"

"I do not believe that really matters."

Avere nodded. "I suppose the stories are true then?"

"Stories are just that, stories. Fallacy is not an uncommon trait amongst them."

Avere chuckled and propped himself up against a wall. "Romantic, and ironic. Two failures, two fools. Tell me, does denying the love make it more alluring?" He waited for a response but none was granted. "Fine. I assume you are speaking on her behalf."

"In a way, yes."

"Then state your business and begone."

"A simple proposal. You convince the needed people to release her dower and in exchange she forfeits all titles and claims."

"Are you mad!?" Avere threw his free hand in the air as he watched Duralle reach for his blade. "This cannot be done. Her claims are worth nothing, she will never be entitled to anything, if she weds again her titles and claims will become void. It would be impossible to convince anyone that paying a small fortune would be the better option."

"Marjolaine would beg to differ."

"Marjolaine needs to stay out of the politics, she needs to stand in the shadows quietly and continue being the pawn that she is. These grandiose notions of hers are foolhardy and she will gain nothing for herself except death. And you, no doubt nudging her along with these delusional aspirations. Or are you simply her third hand, tasked with her whims and at her beckon call?"

"You know what she will do. You know she will do whatever is necessary to garner what she feels is rightfully hers."

Avere laughed at that thought. "Rightfully hers? And who would come and put the blood on their hands? Both of you have become quite infamous throughout Orlais; you as a failure and she for marrying into the nobility, her young, vibrant, healthy husband mysteriously passing away so soon after their wedding. The two of you can barely breathe without half of the aristocracy knowing. If a move was made by her I would have her head dangling from my chandelier before she could drop a blade."

"Do you think we are not aware of that? Marjolaine has been planning this for months, many of those who worked with Janine have already extended their offers to assist Marjolaine. If she truly wants what she feels is rightfully hers she will see that it is done and all she has to do is sit in the shadows pretending to be the pawn that she is. You know full well what she is capable of when she sinks her teeth into something?"

Avere shook his head. "Lies. Dorine and Sylvie will bleed Marjolaine in the streets when they hear word of her treachery."

Duralle smirked as he pulled his anelace from it's sheath, angling it so the dim light reflected and glowed off the bright steel. "Except they will hear no words. They are no more, all dead. Dorine is dead, Sylvie is dead, Manon as well. I am not quite the failure you believe me to be."

Avere felt a cold shiver crawl down his spine, his hands beginning to quiver. "She has other underlings."

"Do you think they will care? Do you think Janine had this undying love from those under her? Most will seek out another master or work independently, a few may even offer to work with us. But none will shed a single tear for that woman, you know this."

"And you believe this will be allowed to stand?"

"Again who will care? Janine was becoming far to big for her own good and the aristocracy aside from yourself and a few others do not hold any concerns over petty squabbles. So long as there are those willing to bloody and dirty there hands for them then they are quite content."

Avere's expression quickly dimmed into a form stemmed from anger and rage. "I took pity upon that girl," he said, pointing a bony finger straight at Duralle's face. "She should be dead, she should be rotting in a cell or at the very least living on the streets begging for alms. I took pity upon that girl by looking past the accusations and putting her in a position to do what she loved despite the reputation she had garnered. After so much begging and pleading Janine was finally willing to take her in, as useless as she would be to her. I went to great lengths and great expenses to keep her alive and busy, personally giving her tasks that suited her situation. And as thanks, I must suffer through this treachery? My kindness repaid with schemes and conniving? Yet, I am not surprised."

"There is a reason you took pity," Duralle sheathed his blade and began to circle Avere. "You knew she still had use, you knew if she was propped up and supported she could become a great boon one day to a man such as yourself. You did what you did because you knew she had value."

Avere smirked. "Brawn, beauty, and brains. Surprise, surprise."

"I will offer my proposal once more. Grant her the dower and she will renounce her claims."

Avere sighed and nodded reluctantly. "Fine, I will try. And understand it is not my decision to make and try is all I can do."

"Good. When you have your decision you will sit down Marjolaine and make her this very same offer."

Avere looked at him curiously, cautiously. "So this scheme is all your doing?" Duralle nodded and the fury once more began to stir inside of him. "I will not admit defeat to that woman."

"Oh you will, you have no choice in this matter. Do this and I can promise you we will disappear."

"Bah, I tried that when I put her under Janine's tutelage."

"I am not Janine," Duralle replied sharply. "We have a better understanding of each other."

Avere eyed him and nodded his head. "Fine, I agree. Come see me in a month and we will go from there. Now if you will excuse me," he began pounding his cane into the ground as he rushed past Duralle as quick as his frail body could move. "I am going to bed to try and sleep away this wonderful encounter. May the demons and abominations that spew from that woman's womb make quick work of you both," he said with a hiss as he vanished into the shadows.

Marjolaine sat huddled on a bedroll near the small fire she had built in an attempt to keep herself warm amidst the cool night breeze. It had been several hours since she had arrived at the makeshift camp, the moon starting to set indicating just how late in the night it was getting. Her excitement about Leliana and the dispatching of Janine slowly dulled as time went on, finding herself growing more and more worried about Duralle. He was a capable man and could handle himself in most situations, but considering how long she had been here and his promise...

She tried not to think about it too much though, it was bad luck. Instead she continued to snack on various wild berries out of a canikin and sipped on a bottle of wine, all procured by Duralle earlier in the day before he set off on doing whatever it was he was doing. From behind she could hear his horse occasionally snort and neigh, each time provoking her to glance around the pine tree lines, searching to see if the horse sensed friend or foe but it never amounted to anything. Marjolaine turned around and stared at the beast; all brown, big and strong, standing there proud as it grazed about the field. She sighed and took another sip of wine, a light buzz starting to come over here.

Suddenly she heard a few cracks of twigs and dried leaves, heavy footsteps coming her way. But she didn't flinch, she knew those steps well. "I thought you would never been seen?" she asked as a silhouette appeared from out of the trees.

"Huh? You mean Urbain?" Duralle asked as he came sat down besides her, taking the half filled bottle from her hand and taking a sip. "That was on purpose, an added incentive to make sure you went through with it."

"I hope you do not believe I had second thoughts."

Duralle shrugged. "No, must say I did not believe that at all. Speaking of Urbain what did you do with him?"

"I let him go, he is of no harm and we may have use for him later."

"You let him go?" Duralle asked a bit surprised.

"He despised Janine as much as I, he will not speak about this to anyone."

"I hope you are right."

"So where have you been? I have been sitting here alone with your beast for so long waiting for you."

"Something needed my attention as I said. I am sorry it took so long."

Marjolaine eyed him curiously. "You never did tell me what it was that needed such desperate attention."

Duralle sighed. "Fine, there is no point in hiding it anymore, a wench as clever as yourself was bound to find out sooner or later. You see, there is this other woman."

Marjolaine rolled her eyes. "That one did not quite do it. Perhaps you have another to try?"

"Oh but I speak the truth. A divine young lady, soft golden hair and the bluest eyes you have ever seen."

"I assume you are never going to tell me?"

"That is my story and I am sticking to it," he said with a smile.

Marjolaine sighed and rested her head upon his shoulder. "If you feel it is best."

Duralle took a sip of wine and set the bottle down. "Everything went fine?"

"Perfect."

"The girl decided to go with you?"

"I believe she will, she seemed quite eager."

"Good, good. So what is it you plan on doing now?"

"Nothing," Marjolaine whispered. "For now I plan on doing nothing."

"Nothing? That is a rather strange approach for you."

"Perhaps you are right. Maybe I will find myself a charming man with golden blonde hair and blue eyes to spend my nights with."

Duralle looked down and chuckled, Marjolaine doing the same. "I see, point taken." He felt her warm lips upon his neck. "What, no carousing? No dancing?"

Marjolaine giggled. "I had taken care of those by myself while waiting for you."

"I suppose it is a good thing I arrived when I did then."

"Do not be so sure," she whisper, placing a hand on his cheek and pushed his head so that they stared into each others eyes. "Hopefully your 'other lady' did not wear you out too much." She brought her lips upon his, kissing him with a deep, lingering passion.

"Trust me, that was not the case." He whispered as Marjolaine pulled away.

Gently he laid her on her back as they began sliding off each others clothing, remaining there in each others arms as they made love to the gentle sounds of the night.

Marjolaine stood outside the hostel, watching as a pair of young men loaded her carriage with various supplies for the return trip to Val Royeaux. Day had broken several hours ago, the small town was bustling with merchants stocking their stalls and shopkeepers opening shop. The attitude today was nothing like that of yesterday, instead of sorrow and silence there was chatter and laughter. Tragic as their loss was their lives would for the most part go on the same, a shift in a lands owner rarely created any drastic change. She turned her head and peered up at the same window Janine had spent all of yesterday gazing out of. The body still hadn't been found and more then likely it wouldn't be found until she was long gone, not that it really mattered. Finally she looked down the road that led towards the manor, hoping to find a young girl with red hair running down the street. Nothing.

"We are about ready to leave my lady."

The words broke her attentive gaze and she found herself staring at an elderly man. "Fine," she uttered plainly. She walked down the road a bit to allow herself to get a clear view of the southern path out of the village and out on the horizon she saw a tiny figure, a man on horseback, and a smile shot across her face. There she stood and watched it for the few brief moments it remained in sight and then turned and made her way back towards the carriage. "How long can you wait?"

"Not much, we need to part now in order to reach an inn along the highway before nightfall."

Marjolaine nodded and sighed as she accepted the hand of the driver, assisting her into the carriage. _''Wait!'' _A tiny shout rang as she was halfway into the carriage. Marjolaine stepped back down and saw the little girl sprinting towards her. She grinned as Leliana came to a dead stop right in front of her, bent over catching her breath. She was a mess, dull cloth clothing and her bright red hair sprayed about, a small square frame held tightly against her chest. "So you decided to come?"

"Yes," Leliana replied through a heavy pant as she stood tall.

"Good. I told you not to bring anything though."

"I know, but this is just the portrait of my mother and I was hoping I could take it along. It is all I brought I promise."

Marjolaine chuckled and rested a hand on the girls tiny shoulder. "That is fine. Come now, we need to get going." She helped Leliana up into the carriage and turned back around to the drive who seemed a bit dumbfounded.

"Err. I was not aware you had a child."

"Yes I know, I apologize. It just slipped my mind. It is not a problem is it?"

"No, no. I just lead the horses, none of my concern."

The driver helped her up into the carriage and bolted the door. Marjolaine took a seat besides the girl who was beaming with joy. "I am glad you decided to come. Have you been to Val Royeaux?"

"Yes Lady Marjolaine. Many times."

"Good," Marjolaine grinned as she tried to straighten the girls hair a bit. "Such a mess," she muttered softly.

"Lord Hervé was not happy that I was leaving and he did not give me a chance to clean myself."

Marjolaine's smiled quickly faded. "Did you tell him you were leaving with me?"

"No. I just said I would be leaving with a minstrel friend to study."

"Good girl," Marjolaine said softly, her smile coming back. "It will take a few days but once we reach Val Royeaux you will begin your new life. A life I am sure you will no doubt come to love."


	2. Of Wine, Women, and Song

_**Chapter One**_

_**Of Wine, Women, and Song**_

Rémonn took several steps inside and came to a halt, taking in the fragrances of various flowers amalgamated so well that he couldn't identify any single one. The brawny young man began to peer about the large tavern; twenty or so people all spread about, some standing together in clustered groups around one of the many small and ornate fireplaces, most sitting at various tables positioned meticulously along the length of the two side walls, the rest walking casually around from table to table, no doubt the waitresses as they were elves and older women clad in rather dull clothing compared to the vibrant satin and velvet garments worn by the more obvious patrons. Stained glass windows were evenly placed and embedded into the elegant stone walls slightly above every table, each one bearing unique patterns and colors. In the back of the room two rosewood doors stood at each corner and between them rested a rather ordinary looking bar, a few patrons gathered around all with dull silver chalices grasped in their hands. Not pleased with what he saw he looked down to his left at a stout dwarf; Kirvar, donned in thick brown leather, bald and rugged looking with a heavy black beard growing down to his chest, an empty sword sheath dangling from his belt, and a brand going across the length of his forehead pattered like that of a chain link. "Any sign of him?"

Kirvar took his turn studying the crowds and gave a quick shake of the head. "No," he spoke with a bassy voice,pointing a finger towards a table on the right side of the room occupied by a lone man. "I see Liam sitting over there, but no Gautier. Might be best if we wait outside."

Rémonn looked over towards the direction the dwarf had gestured and eyed the man sipping from a silvery goblet. "I thought I said no eating or drinking in this place. What is he doing?"

"Having a drink," The dwarf answered with a shrug of his shoulders. "Calm down, it's not like these people know who we are."

Rémonn ignored the dwarf as he continued to stare. Liam was a young man, short and scrawny, born a bastard to an Orlesian woman which made him useful here in Val Royeaux. They used what spare coin they had to clean him up, a bath and cut along with a fresh set of bright blue garments, that combined with the bit of Orlesian blood he had allowed him to blend in well, at least until one would begin talking with him. Once he uttered a word his thick accent and lack of any real education showed him for what he truly was, a two bit thief from the back alley's of Denerim.

"So what do we do? "

"We will wait here. If something does happen we'll have a good chance of catching a sign and getting out," Rémonn asserted as he signaled for Kirvar to follow him towards an empty table on their left, both taking a seat on elegant wooden chairs cushioned with a purple colored plush. He glanced around the room again, many of the patrons had now noticed them and began to take an interest in the two oddities. Sighing he leaned forward clasping his hands tightly and resting them on the square mahogany table so well polished he could see his own reflection clear as day. Rémonn stared at himself for a moment; his young face turning gaunt from hunger and stress was covered with a thick stubble, his normally smooth and straight brown hair that went down his neck sprayed out wildly. It had been a few weeks since he had a real meal or a decent bath and it made him stick out like a sore thumb amongst these Orlesian nobles. "They're staring at us," he said softly, not needing to look up to feel their eyes or hear the lashing of their tongues.

"Well, not like we fit in here," Kirvar muttered as he pulled out a deck of cards from a small leather pouch tied to his belt. "You look like you just broke out of a cell and dwarfs are not what you would call a common sight in Val Royeaux," He took another turn looking around at the various groups as he began cutting the deck of cards. "Let them talk. They're harmless unless you've got a reputation to lose. Lucky us, eh." The dwarf paused a moment as he turned towards Rémonn once more. "You want in?"

Rémonn shook his head as he continued to stare into his own eyes.

"Suit yourself," The dwarf sneered as he began dealing to himself. "You should get something to eat. You look terrible and smell even worse."

"Still not as bad as you." Rémonn replied snarkily as he finally broke away from his reflection and peered out the stained glass window nestled in the wall besides their table, the sun slowly beginning to set.

Kirvar laughed. "I'm a casteless dwarf who has turned in his stone sense or whatever the sod it is they say. I really don't care what people think of me. You however are a human, you should be trying to look half way decent."

"I am just living up to the Orlesian's standard of a Fereldan," Rémonn said as he returned the dwarfs hearty laugh. "The children live as dogs, the women as whores, and the men unsophisticated barbarians." His laugh died off and a sour expression came across his face. "Maker I hate this place. This tavern is fancier then the palace at Denerim."

"It's called class. Maybe your people should have picked up on it when they had you on your knees licking their boots for over half an age," Kirvar smirked as he picked up his cards and began dealing. "They try and give your countrymen nice things and how do you thank them? You threw it back in their face and spat at their feet because it is not what you wanted. And you call them spoiled and excessive."

"You have spent too much time in Orlais."

"I'm not going to argue that. So how about we wave down a wench and get a pint of ale. It has been weeks since I have had a pint of anything aside from bog water and rain puddles."

"No. I told you not to drink anything while we are here. I do not trust this place and I do not trust Gautier. We will take care of our business here, collect our coin and make back to Denerim and drink ourselves until we see the Maker himself is dancing in the streets."

"I rather see a dozen dwarven wenches dancing with nothing but their small clothes on," Kirvar replied has he started dealing to himself once again. "Whatever you prefer though, I'll not judge you." He looked up towards Liam who was still sitting there quietly sipping from his goblet. "That nug huger is still breathing, you cannot argue that and you know sodding well as soon as he uttered a word they wanted to kill him."

"Luckiest man I have ever seen," Rémonn muttered under his breath. "How that fool is still alive...," He shook his head. "No drinking."

"You need to calm yourself," Kirvar grumbled. "Far to cautious."

"I don't like this."

"Neither do I, but damn it look at yourself."

Rémonn ignored him and let the dwarf get back to his cards. He had been a bit overcautious the past few months, the stories he has heard about the Orlesian nobles and their backroom dealings sent shivers down his spine. He began to peer around the room again, the glances and glares much less frequent now. The spectacle of two dirty foreigners somehow crawling their way into this place of privilege was obviously losing it's charm so he took a turn studying them. Most of what he saw were older men sipping from their goblets and chalices accompanied by younger women, weather they were their mistresses, concubines, or just ordinary whores he couldn't tell. _""_"_No different than the Fereldan nobles",'' _he thought to himself. His eyes bounced from group to group as he tried to figure their expressions and read their lips but it never led to any avail. Finally something caught his eye, a small group standing in the back of the room near one of the ornate fireplaces. All were fairly young, three women and a man sipping on wine, talking and laughing about Maker knows what. Something seemed different about them, their clothes of much finer quality than most of the others in the room and they just seemed, enchanting. Perhaps the children of the more powerful nobility. Two of the women met his gaze; one an elegant lady wearing a florid purple and white dress with a jeweled caul placed over her long, dark hair, with a look of complete disgust in her face and that made Rémonn smile. The other one appeared to be the youngest in the group; draped in a exquisite gold dress with lustrous red hair that seemed to glow as firelight shined against it. She gave him a bit of a tantalizing smile, or so he thought. But before he could discern anymore of her features she gracefully turned away and stepped out of view behind a stone pillar. Discreetly he began shifting in his chair hoping to catch another glimpse of her, all of his attempts proving unsuccessful.

Suddenly shouting broke out in what was complete gibberish to Rémonn. He looked up at an older woman dressed in fine and colorful garb going off on a tirade besides their table, shouting profusely in the Orlesian tongue. Initially he feared this woman was the either the mother or employer of the girl he had noticeably been eying and had become furious that some dirty foreigner was ogling her prize. Kirvar stood up though and began calming the woman down, replying to the agitated words in her tongue. The dwarf pulled a small folded parchment from his pouch and handed it off to the woman, her eyes widened with disbelief as she handed it back to him. Gracefully she bowed, spoke a few more words, and scampered off. "What was that about?" Rémonn asked curiously.

"She said that dirt like us are not allowed in her husbands tavern and to get out before she summoned the guard, I told her we were invited here and showed her Gautier's letter," Kirvar grinned amusingly. "She got real quiet after that," he sat back down and returned to his card game. "Then she asked if we wanted anything and I told her to leave us be."

Rémonn sighed as he looked back around, the events seemed to perk peoples interest in them once again. "So much for being discreet," he muttered, the dwarfs initial reply being a hearty laugh.

"Discreet? An ugly Fereldan who smells like dung traveling with a ruggedly good looking dwarf through the heart of Orlais was trying to be discreet. You are dumb as a nug sometimes, you know that?"

"I was not expecting to go completely unnoticed, but we don't need anything adding to our attention here."

"Well you got it, so live with it."

Rémonn shook his head and looked back over at the fireplace where he had seen the woman but she remained hidden behind the pillar, though the man in her company began to give him a rather nasty glare. Brother, husband, betrothed, simple friend he didn't know but he knew better then to try and tempt any fate. "Did you see the woman over there?" he asked softly.

Kirvar looked up at him curiously. "So let me see if I understand this. We cannot eat, we cannot drink, we cannot even get a decent room to sleep in because of your rampant fear, but we can think about what we would do to their women once we got their pretty little dresses off?" he started to chuckle. "Well at least you have your priorities in good order. So which one are we undressing now?" he watched as Rémonn began shaking his head. "Come on now, they might not be as luscious as dwarven women but they sure beat what you have in Fereldan," slowly he began to scan the room scan the room with a widening grin. "Sod it, I will take any of these over those stones we had back in Orzammar."

"I was not talking about it like that."

"Of course you were." Kirvar interrupted. "You saw her and wanted to take her up to one of the room upstairs and, whats a nice word so I don't upset you," He stroked his beard a moment, acting as if he was in some deep thought. "Aha, ravish. You want to take her upstairs, rip off her clothes and your clothes and then **ravish** her all night." The dwarf started to laugh but held it back as he saw an enraged look in Rémonn's eyes. "You know what your problem is, you are too haughty, like someone plunged a pike up your arse. Here is what I am going to do for you, once we collect our coin and return to Denerim I am going to rent The Pearl for a week, lock you in there and tell them to throw everything they have at you until you become a broken husk of a man."

"I thought that was your plan for Liam," Rémonn muttered.

"Bah, Gautier would have to give us his entire fortune to get enough coin for a woman to bed with Liam." Kirvar answered as he returned to his cards. "So was there something else about that woman other that what I said?"

"No," Rémonn replied softly.

"Thought so. I would look but I know your taste in women. Terrible." Kirvar stared at the cards in his hand and sighed. "So how much longer are we going to wait?"

"Until he shows I suppose. He has got to show eventually, or at the very least send a few well armed men."

"And me without a sodding blade," Kirvar said furiously.

"What do you think?" Rémonn asked as he began to rhythmically tap his fingers on the mahogany table.

"About what? Are we still discussing this woman of yours?"

"Is this a trap or not?" Rémonn replied harshly.

"I don't know," Kirvar looked back towards the front door and shook his head. "I don't think so, not here at least. The Orlesian nobles, they prefer to handle their business cleanly."

"I have heard differently."

"This isn't Antiva where everyone you see is looking to cut your throat and spit on your corpse. If they can make it go away by simply passing along a few sovereigns than that is exactly what they're going to do." Kirvar watched as that fearful look appeared in his friends eyes one again, his fingers tapping the table as he made occasional glances around the room. "We have dealt with Orlesians before. I'm not sure what you are so worked up about."

"I know. But it has always been on our terms, on our turf. We have always been the ones in command."

"Well, now you know how they felt."

"Better them then us," Rémonn grunted.

They both sat quietly for another hour or so, Kirvar continuing on with his cards and Rémonn gazing out the stained glass window watching as the blue tinted light trying to shine through slowly began to dim as the sun sank further below the buildings of Val Royeaux. A few of the waitresses began to make rounds around the room lighting additional candles that were fastened to the walls next to the windows as well as a few that dangled elegantly from the ceiling. A few of the old patrons had left with their escorts in arm but for everyone that left two more seemed to come in and take their place, each one directing a curious glare towards them as they passed by. The room was now bustling with much of the same he had seen before, older men accompanied by several younger women sharing drink and words as they smiled and laughed, no doubt with the hope of waking up in the morning with a few extra silvers or a child brewing in their bellies.

Rémonn exhaled a deep breath as his eyes once again settled on the back of a red haired woman wearing a gold dress. Her friends had left sometime ago, each giving him a somewhat menacing glare as they passed by much the same as every other Orlesian. She had now taken up the company of an old, rather worn looking man who seemed to be enjoying every moment of it. _"'Poor guy wouldn't last the night with her,' _he thought to himself as a smile cracked though his nervous guise. Admittedly though he felt a little disappointed, for some reason he was hoping she was something else, something more. But in the end she appeared to be the same as the other women here, hoping to birth a bastard from an old fool and gain a few sovereigns to make it simply go away. '_Pity'. _

"_Gentlemen._" Suddenly came from behind them, breaking Rémonn's attentive gaze. He turned around and saw a young, fair-skinned man towering above them. His chiseled face clean and smooth aside from a thin mustache above his narrow lips. Oily, pitch black hair tied back in a thick ponytail, dark eyes that gave off an almost sinister radiance, and his face striped with purple and blue paint. His clothing a bright red and black satin doublet and breeches that matched. "Master Rémonn I presume?" he spoke with a soft, cool tone that was marked by a heavy accent.

"Gautier?" Rémonn asked quietly as he studied the man, searching to see if he branded any weapons but none appeared in any of the obvious places.

"Lord Gautier." The man replied sharply as he made his way slowly around them to the other side of the table. "We do respect the one title we are permitted to hold here in Orlais." He had a certain swagger in his step, almost as if he was setting his dominance, like a beast warning you that you've encroached on it's territory.

Rémonn bowed his head slightly as he began to search the room for any signs of sudden movement or added intrigue, none found. "My apologies, Lord Gautier," he muttered sarcastically. "You are however just a bit late from our arranged time."

"Nonsense. We Orlesians are never late nor are we ever early. We arrive precisely when we mean to," Gautier retorted with a smirk as he took a seat.

"That is wonderful to know lord. Perhaps you could have been kind enough to have shared that in your message so that we did not sit here like fools for several hours."

"Just get on with it," Kirvar muttered as he placed his cards in his small pouch.

Gautier smiled. "What is the rush? Come, let us drink a toast to good health and fortune." He turned around and made a signal to a woman who came rushing over. "I apologize we had to have our meeting in such shoddy accommodations. For this type of business though, discretion was necessary."

Rémonn gave Gautier a quizzical look as he spoke to a blond elven woman in his native tongue then watched her dash off back towards the bar. "Shoddy accommodations?"

"Yes." Gautier said with a nod. "This place, there is no music, no song, the walls are so plain and dreary, the food is terrible and the company is usually, less then desirable. It is such a monotonous place." He paused a moment as he looked back over his shoulders. "It serves it's purpose however, it gives the noblemen a place of privacy to come and seek love of a more, physical nature and it is bleak enough that their wives and ladies have no desire to join them," he said with a casual grin as he turned his attention back towards his company.

"Well how do you like that, their brothels are fancier then your palace Rémonn." Kirvar blurted.

Gautier turned towards the Dwarf. "Brothel? No, no. These women are not whores, they are the daughters of smiths and merchants who come hoping to expand their families prestige and fortune, so to speak." He paused as the elven woman returned and set plain silver chalices down in front of all three before bowing deeply and walking away. "So no, these woman are not whores. While their intentions may be similar they are under no obligations to serve anyone aside from themselves and their family," he smiled and raised his cup as if to toast before taking a sip of the sweet wine.

Rémonn looked down at the dark red wine, taking in it's aroma and swirling it a little to see if anything was slipped in it, peering to his left he saw Kirvar doing the same.

"Gentlemen please," Gautier said with a smile as he took another sip. "There is no reason to be scared. Business is business in Orlais. Indeed it is not uncommon for unsavory methods to be employed." He paused, again taking a sip and giving them a eery grin. "But we do not taint our wine, our women, or our songs. One should not have to fear life's greatest pleasures, no?"

Rémonn gave him an uneasy look and glanced over to Kirvar who had already begun gulping down the wine. He turned back and looked down at the thick red liquid, he was parched and it had been a long time since they had anything other then dirty water. Slowly he took a sip, his face puckering up as the taste blasted against his tongue. "That's terrible." He muttered.

"I agree," Gautier said with a smug look. "As I said, I apologize. Perhaps next time we will meet under better circumstances and can enjoy our business in a more appropriate place."

Rémonn nodded as he waited anxiously to see if any signs of poison came about, but nothing felt abnormal aside from the foul taste in his mouth. "So why are you late?"

"As I said, we are never late. If you would like to know why I have only now just arrived I had to visit several libraries and the Grand Cathedral. The Empress; Maker watch over her, she is adamant that her nobility be as educated as the brightest mages and most revered scholars. I do apologize however if I have kept you waiting longer then you had anticipated."

Rémonn stared at him a moment, his statement appearing to be sincere.

"And you came here alone? No guards?" Kirvar asked as he surveyed the room. "I thought you were a man of importance in Orlais?"

"Myself?" Gautier replied with a smile to the dwarf. "No, I am simply the third child of a land owning noble so my importance here in Orlais is minimal. As for guards, there is no need. This is Val Royeaux, blood has not touched the streets outside the docks and alienage in years. My friend if we are not safe here we are not safe anywhere." He watched them both carefully, watching Rémonn's eyes occasionally glance off to the side. "And how about you? Do you happen to have any others here, hidden perhaps, waiting?"

"No," Rémonn replied bluntly, his eyes shifting off to the side towards Liam.

"Is that so?" Gautier asked. "Well, than this should be easier then I thought."

Rémonn looked at him with an inquisitive stare then watched as Gautier suddenly began clapping his hands together. Both he and Kirvar jumped from their chairs, Liam following shortly after. All three began to franticly search the room, their hands hovering near their hidden daggers as they looked for signs of an incoming fight. But aside from many curious glances and Gautier's amused laugh nothing came about.

"Sodding bastard," Kirvar muttered though his gritted teeth as his eyes filled with rage. "What was that!"

Rémonn waited to see if Gautier replied but he did nothing aside from continuing on with his laughter. "Let it go," he muttered as he put his hand on the dwarfs shoulders. "He tricked us." Once Kirvar reluctantly took his seat Rémonn followed and signaled for Liam to do the same.

Gautier stopped his laugh and sighed as he turned around in his chair to examine the third man who had reacted. "What is it you fear?" he asked through a devilish grin as he turned back around to face Rémonn. "Do you fear chevaliers will pour into the room and run you through? Perhaps you fear assassins will fall upon you from the rafters above? What would I gain from such an action?" He paused a moment, his expression now stern as he watched the young man begin to stir uncomfortably. "Perhaps it is I who should be concerned as you are the one with men incognito," he leaned forward. "If I truly wanted you dead, it would already be so." Gautier winked and smiled as he leaned back, letting that thought linger at their table for a minute. "I do apologize, but you are a terrible liar and I was curious as to exactly how many you had hidden."

Rémonn watched as Gautier took another sip from his chalice. "You will have to understand our caution, Val Royeaux has not exactly been hospitable to us."

"I did extend the offer to conduct our business in the privacy of my estate, you however insisted it be in a neutral setting." Gautier set his chalice down gently as he leaned forward once more. "My family just wants this to go away, blood does not need to be shed from either of our ends," he made a quick glance back at Liam before once more locking onto Rémonn's eyes. "If you are ready we may begin. I assume you have an offer in mind?"

"Three hundred sovereigns is a fair price, do you not agree?" Rémonn responded calmly.

Gautier chuckled. "Must say I do not. Do you have the book with you?"

"How dumb do you think we are?" Kirvar blurted before chugging down the rest of his wine.

"You would be in a much better position to answer that question, no?" Gautier replied never breaking away from Rémonn's eyes.

"I fail to see why that matters. It is obvious you believe we are in possession of them otherwise you would not be sitting here across from me," Rémonn softly spoke as he broke away from Gautier's ominous stare. "As I said, three hundred sovereigns or we turn these papers over to the Orlesian government."

Gautier smiled as Rémonn's gaze turned away from his own. "I am afraid that cannot be done. Far too steep."

"Too steep?" Kirvar interjected. "Last time I checked treason was quite a serious crime here in Orlais. Your entire family would be swinging from the gallows within the week and your bodies left to feed the crows. How is the price to steep when your families being is at stake?"

"Treason?" Gautier said as he turned over to the dwarf. "I hardly consider a few business deals with foreigners to be treason. I suppose death would be a possible punishment but more likely than not we would be stuck with a hefty fine and a rather unpleasant tongue lashing."

"I am tempted to call that bluff." Kirvar muttered.

Gautier laughed as he began running his finger along the rim of his chalice. "Turn it over to the government and you may get a few silvers, then you would wait several years for our trial and then several more for judgment to finally pass. Orlesian justice can be incredibly swift or extremely tedious depending on the prestige of those being tried."

Kirvar shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe watching you stew is worth a thousand sovereigns to me."

Gautier laughed again. "Then you have a very poor judgment of value my tiny friend." He turned back towards Rémonn. "I suggest you leave your, companion, out of this business."

"He has a point." Rémonn replied. "Three hundred sovereigns and you can avoid all possible troubles."

"Do not underestimate my families influence," Gautier said sternly. "You may think you control the board but it is quite the opposite. I will give you one hundred. That would be plenty for you and your friends to buy a piece of land in Ferelden with a few peasants," he grinned as he lifted his chalice to take another sip. "Grow fat on the fruits of your success."

Rémonn saw Kirvar ready to speak up so he quickly positioned a hand in front of the dwarfs mouth. "I want to get very fat."

"I see. Sadly I cannot oblige you the three hundred, my father would hang me himself if I parted with that much."

"Just another reason to make the price stand." Kirvar smirked.

"You want your gold while my family wants this to go away," Gautier said ignoring the dwarfs comments. "There is nothing to gain for either of us to leave here without an agreement." He paused a moment as he began to study both of them; reading their eyes, their expressions. "I can part with two hundred."

Rémonn glanced over to Kirvar who simply shrugged. "Alright. two hundred sovereigns for your papers."

"Excellent!" Gautier shouted jubilantly. "This my friends is how all business should be done; quick, clean, and painless."

"So when do we get our coin?" Kirvar muttered.

"Obviously I do not carry two hundred sovereigns on my purse," Gautier lifted his chalice to his mouth and sighed.

"Well," Rémonn spoke up. "You go get the coin and we will fetch your prize."

Gautier chuckled after taking another sip of wine. "If I may be so bold as to offer a more sensible proposal." He waited for Rémonn to give him a signal to continue on. "Trust is obviously an issue for both of our parties. Tomorrow midday we meet at the Grand Cathedral and simply have our exchange there. I can assure you nothing will be attempted from my end in the house of the Chantry and anything attempted from your end would result in a rather gruesome demise. Once I have what I want there is no reason to pursue you any further, coin can be replaced far easier than reputation."

Rémonn glanced over at Kirvar who gave his approval with a simple nod. "Very well," he turned back to Gautier. "Midday tomorrow at the Grand Cathedral."

Gautier watched as both stood and began making their way towards the door." Gentlemen, please," he uttered with a smile. "There is no reason to leave, the evening is still young."

Rémonn paused and turned back around, Kirvar doing the same. "Our business here is done."

"Two hundred sovereigns, the least you can do is grant me the pleasure of your company for the evening," Gautier said as he raised his chalice in the air.

Rémonn eyed him curiously before looking over to Kirvar who shrugged his shoulders and returned to his seat. "You'll have to understand I am not looking to make friends."

"Who said anything about making friends. I am simply looking for a bit of company as I finish my wine."

Rémonn glanced towards Liam who was standing with a muddled look about him, waving for him to sit down then did the same himself.

"Come, a toast to success."

Rémonn raised his chalice and gently tapped it with Gautier's before taking another sip of his wine noting a vastly improved taste, though that just may be the fact that this time tomorrow he would have two hundred sovereigns in his pocket.

"If you do not mind my asking, how exactly did you come into possession of this information?" Gautier inquired. "It is obvious by your appearances that you have gone to great lengths to retrieve and hold onto it."

Rémonn contemplated a moment, debating with himself weather it would be in his best interest to answer or not. The last time he lied Gautier saw right through it and quickly embarrassed them as a consequence. "Perhaps you would care to share something me first." He didn't expect Gautier would comply, but perhaps something would slip in the process. "Why would your family hand out so much clear and damning evidence?"

"Fair enough," Gautier said. "It is simply business. Records and sealed agreements, orders for those handling the shipping and transportation, other various details necessary for the completion of the transactions. Honestly it was never a concern that this would fall into the wrong hands, it takes a sharp mind to put it all together as you have."

Rémonn sat astonished, more so to the fact he said something rather then what was actually said. Still curiosity began bubble inside of him. "So what did you sell, exactly?"

"Arms and armor, supplies, food and clothing, anything any of the various nations needed which was in my families power to supply ," Gautier replied coolly.

"But you also dealt with Ferelden during our wars, how did you manage to get all this equipment and supplies into our lands?" Kirvar spoke up curiously.

"We would hire out Antivan and Rivain ships, they displayed the Orlesian flag and my families banner allowing them to pass through our blockade and once past they exchanged flags to that of whatever nationality. When they arrived in Ferelden they passed as simple merchants, so they operated freely throughout your major ports. Other times merchants and guides would lead small caravans across remote passages in the southern reaches of the Frostback Mountains allowing them to bypass the massive lines on our borders.

"And all this time you've never been caught?" The dwarf once again inquiring.

Gautier glanced over to Kirvar and smiled. "Do you not consider this being caught? You have me at this table bartering for your silence on the matter."

Rémonn noted the Orlesians rather apathetic manner around the subject and his involvement. But the fact he was speaking about this so openly continue to have him on edge. _''Why?'_ He shook his head to try and clear away his worries. "But you sold to Ferelden while we were at war. You helped to feed our people and arm our soldiers. How do you not consider this treason?"

"War and treason?" Gautier turned his attention back towards Rémonn."For the past fifteen years we have done nothing but sit on our borders. Occasionally a minor scuffle would break out between our forces, even rarer would be a major battle. But we were never aggressive, no plan for a second invasion was ever conjured, we just sat there in defiance of the truth and realities that we had been bested. Our stubborn leaders far to arrogant and egotistical to ever admit defeat to your people, never willing to utter a word of peace so long as Maric's head remained attached to his body. So we continued on with this 'war' while the aristocracy began to bleed to death financially as we continued to finance this war with no gains even attempted to be made. Many of the aristocracy began seeking other methods of financing themselves, my family began trading off much of our excess to various nations. Eventually we saw an opportunity with your people and made a few agreements in secret with some of your nobility. Weapons and armor, food, medicine, clothing, and other bits and pieces in exchange for a hefty amount of gold. This helped Ferelden to keep itself armed and supplied and my family managed to recoup much of our coin spent on your cursed lands."

"And this is not treason to you or your people?" Rémonn asked.

"In my eyes the traitors are the ones who continued on with this jest despite pleas to put it to a halt, but time and treachery have dealt with most of them," Gautier took a sip of wine and softly exhaled. "But I do not know what people would see this as, perhaps nothing. Would it not be queer to execute a family who aided the nation you are now trying to regain friendship with? Perhaps honor in public and scold in private, or perhaps we would dangle from the gallows as your friend suggested, I do not know. I am a gambling man, but when the stakes are the lives and reputation of my family it is far to high of a risk to take hence why I am willing to deal with you and pay such a price. Coin can be recouped far easier than blood."

"So help me to understand this," Kirvar said. "Orlais had the ability to launch another invasion but instead you stood idle? Why would your people do such a thing?"

"I do not know, I am not privy to such information. The general consensus amongst the aristocracy is it was simple incompetence coupled with a bit of fear. We were crippled upon our expulsion from your lands that is not contested, but our militia and garrisons remained unscathed and could have quickly been mobilized to the lines and the sea for one more devastating push. Alas we held onto the motionless, our coin and resources wasted on a stalemate kept alive by stubborn foolery. But I do believe your people had us frightened, terrified that we may underestimate your leadership, cunning, and will once more and this time we would be the helpless nation left to mercy of Ferelden and the rest Thedas," Gautier sighed. "But this is such an unpleasant conversation, let us move on. Perhaps now that I have shared my side you shall share yours?"

Rémonn let a moment of silence linger between them as he dove back into this thoughts. "I would rather not," he muttered in a soft tone as he looked away. "I am sure you understand."

"Pity," Gautier replied sharply. "But yes, understandable."

Rémonn sighed, he wasn't sure why but he felt a bit of relief come about. The reality in his mind was Gautier already knew every dirty detail about how they came into possession of this information. "So why did you share that?"

"Why not," Gautier said with a shrug. "I have nothing to fear from you, the patrons here are more concerned with finding a 'companion' for the night than the idle business of a few men, even those as queer as yourselves. Even if one were to find out and confess the actions of my family most of Orlais would simply turn a blind eye without any evidence. I am not some simple peasant," he cracked a grin. "Confession is good for the soul, or so they say."

Rémonn simply nodded, he felt there was more to Gautier's smugness then self imposed fearlessness but it was good enough to put him at a bit more ease. Kirvar looked as if he felt differently though, his eyes fixated on Gautier as if he were trying to read his very thoughts, to break his will and force him to confess some unknown truth. Rémonn let the dwarf be and began peering around the tavern floor once more, hoping to catch a glimpse of gold and red once more. Standing near where he had his first glimpse there she stood with some young man he had yet to see, her back once again shown as if she was purposely teasing and tormenting him.

"You have an eye for our women?"

Rémonn looked towards Gautier who broke the silence with his heavy accent. "Pardon?"

Gautier grinned. "I see the look in your eye, it is a look I am rather familiar with after all." He paused a moment, admiring Rémonn's bewildered look. "Tell me, have you ever had an Orlesian woman before?"

"None that I'm aware of." Rémonn replied slowly, attempting to determine where Gautier was going with such a question.

"Oh if you did you would know. Orlesian woman are, how do you say, more passionate about their duties. Perhaps you would like to experience this first hand?"

"What do you mean?"

"I thought the meaning was obvious. It has been a successful evening, perhaps you would like to complete the night with a lovely young lady amidst your company."

"Sure, but..." Rémonn stopped to think a moment. "I am a little hesitant to take anyone from your graces."

"My graces? Nonsense. I know nothing of your tastes." Gautier glided his hand out across the the room. "Pick one. Both of you, simply pick one and she is yours for the night."

"I don't need help finding a woman," Kirvar grumbled.

Gautier laughed and smiled. "Of that I have no doubt. Something so small would certainly hold quite an exotic and alluring quality to many of the woman here."

Rémonn threw his hand on the dwarfs shoulder before he could finish his leap across the table. "Take Liam and head back to the inn," he whispered in Kirvar's ear.

Kirvar never took his eyes off of Gautier who sat there bearing a smug grin. The dwarf gritted his teeth and nodded in agreement. "Don't do anything foolish," he whispered back. "I don't trust this sodding bastard and I don't trust any sodding whore he gives you." Kirvar forced his shoulder away from Rémonn's grip and angrily began walking towards the door. "Liam! Let's go!" he shouted, the young man bouncing up on command. "Come on you nug huger, I don't have all day," he said bluntly as he shoved Liam towards the door.

Rémonn watched them both leave and once gone returned his attention back to Gautier who maintained his smug expression.

"As I said, feel free to pick any woman here. Consider it my way of sealing our deal."

"One of these? Did you not say they are nobility or something?"

Gautier chuckled. "My friend, you are in the company of Lord Gautier of House d'Allemagne. When it comes to the ladies here Val Royeaux is at your beckon call."

Rémonn looked back towards the woman with the red hair, staring as he debated in his mind weather or not to accept Gautier's odd offer.

Gautier noted the rather intent stare and turned in his chair, connecting Rémonn's gaze to a single individual. "You like the red hair one?" He asked as he turned back around to face Rémonn. "A good choice. They say the ones with red hair are more; fiery, sensual, lustful."

"I can't have her." Rémonn was trying to deny it to himself, the fear of some sort of trap lingered in the back of his mind. "She has to be nobility."

"Normally, no," Gautier smiled. "The way you look now you would not be able to take a simple dock wench. But as I said, you are in good graces." He turned back around and studied the woman a bit more. "Yes, I know this one," Gautier said as he turned back to Rémonn.

"You...know her?" Rémonn asked, not sure weather to take the notion as a good or bad omen.

"Indeed. She is a minstrel, has performed several times for my father during his gatherings and balls. Very beautiful, very talented," Gautier noted the twisted look in Rémonn's eyes and laughed. "No need to worry, my father has not bedded with her, nor have I. As far as I know she is as innocent as a young Chantry initiate. If that is a desire of yours of course," he let the words linger on for a minute. "Do you want her?"

Rémonn rubbed the back of his head as he thought, his eyes bouncing between Gautier and the woman. "I. I guess. I don't know."

"If you prefer to spend the night alone with your two friends, the short one and the ugly one, then I will not force this. I am simply extending my hospitality and thanks," Gautier watched as Rémonn finally nodded. "Excellent. Come."

Rémonn watched as Gautier flagged down a young elf, spoke a command in the Orlesian tongue and pointed towards the woman near the back. The elf ran off towards her and Rémonn began pondering his choice. Maybe Kirvar was right; maybe he was too cautious, too paranoid and fearful when it wasn't warranted. Gautier, while smug and obnoxious, hasn't given him any reason to distrust him. The Orlesian has been sincere in all of his actions, open with his words, and explicit with his desire to keep this as simple and clean as possible. Perhaps this was simply a gesture of good will, perhaps.

"Ah, how are you my dear," Gautier said smoothly as he opened his arms.

"I am fine Lord Gautier, thank you for asking." The woman replied with a soft, ethereal voice marked with light accent similar to that of the other Orlesians attempting to speak his tongue. "I saw you earlier and would have come to greet you but I saw you had, company of sorts, and felt it best to leave you be."

"Nonsense my dear, I will always have time for you."

"And a good evening to you. I apologize for not giving you a more proper greeting but I do not believe we have met." The woman spoke as she turned her attention to the young, unkempt man.

"Where are my manners," Gautier quickly jumped in. "This is Master Rémonn, a very good friend of mine," he said gesturing towards Rémonn. "And this here is Leliana."

Rémonn sensed the sweet aroma of lavender radiating from the young lady as he examined her closely for the first time. She was quite young, a soft and pale complexion, her features seemingly cut from fine stone. Her lips pout and emphasized by a light red paint, light, almost icy blue eyes that held a sort of seductive quality. That fiery red hair flowing down to her shoulders like strands of silk, her gold dress shaping to her comely body. "You speak my tongue?" he managed to ask dryly.

"Of course. Those of privilege are taught a great deal including the many languages of the lands," she replied.

"Come, have a seat." Gautier ordered as he placed his hand on her back and gently guided her to the seat across from Rémonn. "Now tell me what are you doing here? This place, it is below you."

Leliana smiled at him. "My mistress has said that we need to find new clientele so she asked me to come here and introduce myself to a few of the nobility."

"Nonsense," Gautier replied. "You know my father would keep you locked away for himself if you and your mistress allowed him. There is no reason to come and sell yourself here. I will speak to my father, perhaps he can grant you more opportunities."

Leliana bowed her head and then turned to the man across the table from her. "Rémonn? That is an unusual name to hear in Orlais, I assume you hail from Ferelden?"

"Now what could have given that away," Rémonn replied with a smile. "Yes, I hail from Ferelden. Gwaren to be exact."

"Well you must be someone of great importance, very few men have the prestige to hold Lord Gautier's company for an entire evening."

Rémonn met her eyes and smiled. "I wouldn't say that."

"No need to be so modest," Gautier interjected. "He served directly under a Bann before deciding to take on more personal ventures. Dare I say they are turning out quite profitable."

Rémonn stared down Gautier as he spoke, watching the imperturbable Orlesian raise his chalice in salutation. "Served being the word of note," he muttered softly.

"May I ask what it is you do now," Leliana inquired.

"Rather personal," Gautier answered for the Fereldan. "You will have to understand that my dear."

Rémonn was perplexed by Gautier's actions but the words seemed to satisfy the young woman's curiosity. Maybe he truly was sincere with his offer. "And how about you," he asked as his eyes shifted across the table. "May I ask where you hail from?"

"From a quaint little town here in Orlais, though my mother is from Ferelden as yourself."

"So you have some Fereldan blood in you?" Rémonn asked intrigued.

"Yes, one of her few demeaning qualities," Gautier uttered. "Though we have done well in washing it away and dare I say, she has become one of the jewels of Orlais."

"Maybe that blood is what makes her one of the 'jewels of Orlais'," Rémonn retorted, watching as Gautier slunk back in his chair. He glanced back over to Leliana who was shyly looking away, that tantalizing smile he had seen earlier lingering about. "So you are a minstrel?"

"Yes." Leliana replied joyfully. "I have been for many years now."

"And you enjoy it?"

"Certainly, I love song and dance but my passion is with the stories. Tales of heroes and adventures long past, lovers who come to pass with tragedy, stories of good battling against evil." She paused a moment and smiled. "Listen to me go on about myself, I apologize."

"No need," Rémonn said repaying her smile in kind. "As a child I loved to hear tales of old, stories to spark ones spirit in dire times. As I grew though there became less and less time for such things. Perhaps you could share a few stories sometime," he paused a moment noting how she seemed intrigued. "Many years you say. You look rather young so the Maker has blessed you greatly one way or another."

Leliana blushed. "Thank you," she said softly. "I have been practicing as far back as I can remember. My mother passed away when I was young and the lady she served took me in. She taught me song and dance, taught me to read and write. I preformed for her and her company many times." She went quiet, her face bearing a somber expression. "When the lady who took care of me passed away, I was found by my mistress who took me in and furthered my knowledge and talents and had given me the opportunity to perform on a regular basis. So I have traveled all over Orlais performing at various taverns and balls, sharing what I know and learning so much more."

"A sad story with a happy ending," Rémonn said raising his chalice in salute of her and then took a sip.

Gautier slowly stood up, took out his coin purse and set a silver down on the table. "It has been a pleasure speaking to you both. Regretfully however I must now take my leave. I do have other matters to attend to and it is no doubt getting rather late so I shall leave you two to get further acquainted," He turned and looked down at Leliana. "My dear, do take care and I will see if something can be arranged with my father." He then changed his direction to face Rémonn. "And I shall see you tomorrow Master Rémonn, it has been an honor discussing business with you once more." Gautier gave him a bow and a smile. "I wish you both a pleasant and pleasurable night together." Slowly he began to walk towards listening as Leliana and Rémonn continued on with their conversation. Stopping just short of the door he turned and looked back at the two. Leliana beaming and laughing, inveigling him more and more with every moment he spent in her company. _'Pleasant and pleasurable indeed.' _


	3. A Sirens Lullaby

_**Chapter Two  
**_

_**A Sirens Lullaby**_

The tavern had begun to empty as time continued to slip by, the candles around the room beginning burn out and the fires starting to dim creating nothing more than a faint glow within the tavern. Many of the patrons had left; most of the men drunk, groping and fondling their ladies of the evening as they giggled and smiled in amusement at the affectionate acts. A few of the men decided to take their woman upstairs for whatever reason, perhaps they had no desire to wait or they simply knew their wives sat in their lavish homes and estates impatiently waiting for their return. A few of the unlucky men stopped by the table Rémonn and Leliana shared, taking a seat besides her and acting as if he wasn't there. The men would smile and talk to her in their native tongue no doubt trying to understand why she would take the company of 'that' and every time she politely refused their offers of company and grace.

Leliana was an oddity in Rémonn's eyes. Beautiful and charismatic and while those traits weren't unique with the women who occupied this establishment she was the only one who did not view him with complete abhorrence. Why this was the case sparked both caution and intrigue. He had heard the tales; stories of beautiful women who would charm and lure men into a state of seduction and render them helpless as they set forth with their devious tasks. The Bards of Orlais; assassins, spies, and saboteurs. Rémonn had heard the tales many times but fact and fiction from stories told around a barrel of ale are often meshed together for the sake of entertainment or simply out of ignorance. He eyed her carefully, judged her movements and actions but he could not find anything that would give her away. He posed various questions yet he always found himself delivering the answers. Rémonn wanted to believe she was who she appeared to be, perhaps that was where the real success of the bard truly lay. _'How could this have possibly been set up, I picked her out of the crowd. Could all of these women be Bards? Would Gautier go to such lengths and pay such an expense?' _All were questions that raced through his mind as they talked and laughed the night away.

"It is late," Leliana suddenly spoke with her tender voice. "I should be going." Slowly she rose, smiled, and bowed. "It has been both an honor and pleasure."

Rémonn curiously watched her as she stood tall and still for a time, no doubt waiting for a farewell. He had nothing to give her however and gracefully she made her way towards the door and then stepped out into the darkness. Silently he sat there alone, his fingers tapping the table at a rapid pace as he tried to suppress his desires with reason. _'Let her go, not worth the risk.' _ It did no good in the end, soon he found himself walking towards the door as regret already began to seep in.

Rémonn took a step out into the dark streets of Val Royeaux and immediately began looking around, directly to his right a burly man donned in a burgundy colored gambeson leaned back against the wall with his arms tightly crossed over his chest. He eyed the man for a moment; taking note of the long sword sheathed at his side. But aside from a passing glance the man gave nothing in return.

The street ran parallel with the front of the tavern; small shops, inns, and taverns all built with bright colored bricks running along both sides of the cobblestone road, most closed down for the night but a glow could still be seen through a few windows and the faint sound of instruments and cheerful, drunken song could be heard across the cool breeze. Lamp posts dotted along the edges of the street giving the city it's only real source of light on this moonless night. Rémonn continued searching the streets, eventually catching sight of a lone silhouette walking away. Without hesitation he took off and ran her down under the glow of one of the lamp poles, heeding the inquisitive look she gave him. "That was awful rude, just getting up and leaving like that," he uttered as he stood tall, catching his breath.

Leliana grinned. "Oh? From the looks you were giving me I thought I was starting to bore you."

"You? Never. Some of your friends that decided to come and try to sweep you off your feet did get a little tiresome, but certainly not you."

"They did not mean you any disrespect."

Rémonn laughed. "Of course not, It's just that I have yet to accept the Orlesian tradition of spitting and cursing at every guest and foreigner that steps foot in your friendly lands." The laugh died away quickly as he met her eyes. "The least you could do is allow me to take you home, or wherever you are going for the night."

"And why would you want to do that?"

"You know, walk with the lady, keep her safe. Chivalry and all that."

Leliana giggled. "Oh, so you are a gentleman now, is that it. Tell me than my chivalrous friend, what is it I need protecting from?"

"I'm sure there are many men in Val Royeaux who would not think twice about trying to take advantage of a vulnerable woman such as yourself."

"And you see me as vulnerable? A helpless little girl incapable of defending herself?"

"You are a minstrel, not a profession where one would be considered skillful if the arts of combat and self defense."

Leliana smiled, "It is not wise to judge one from the outside."

"Oh? So is there more to you then meets the eyes?" Rémonn asked intriguingly.

"Well, unless you are one of the many men who would not think twice about taking advantage of a vulnerable woman such as myself I am not sure you will get have the opportunity to find out," Leliana paused a moment. "Besides you never even said goodbye. You just let me walk away without a word and now you are concerned with my safety?"

"Why say goodbye when I knew the night was not over for us," Rémonn replied with a smile.

"Is that what you think?" Leliana responded with a smile of her own. "Well unless you plan on spending the night at Lord Gautier's estate with me I am not quite sure how much more you are expecting."

Rémonn's expression quickly dimmed. "Gautier? You are staying with him?"

"Well no, not exactly," Leliana sighed. "I do not live here in Val Royeaux, I was hoping he would lend me a room for the night but he left in such a hurry I never had a chance to ask him."

"I don't understand, what are you doing here then?" Suspicion and fear were slowly creeping back into Rémonn's mind. Casually he began glancing around at the shadows, searching for something he knew didn't exist.

"This is Val Royeaux, what better place is there in Orlais for a minstrel to find work? As I said earlier my mistress asked me to come to the..." Leliana stopped as she noted his uneasiness and gently placed a hand on his rough cheek. "Are you all right? You seem worried."

"Fine, fine," he muttered as he felt her soft hand gently caress his face, his eyes once again meeting hers. "I just, thought of something is all." That charm and smile seemed to erode away the doubt and suspicion that plagued his mind.

"I should go," Leliana took her hand off his face and began to slowly step away.

"Wait, no. I apologize," Rémonn said as he exhaled a deep breath. "A strange city, I am just a little nervous," he looked back over his shoulder, at what he didn't know but he felt the need to get Leliana out of his sight for a minute. "Listen. I do not know where Gautier's estate is but if you would like you can take my room. It is not pretty but it is a bed and only a short distance away."  
"A kind offer, but I must reject. I cannot intrude and certainly do not want to be a bother to you or your companions," Leliana said as she turned back around.

"Well, how far is it to Gautier's estate?"

Leliana glanced to the side, wondering what it was Rémonn was staring at so intently. "Near the center of the city, most nobles hold houses there for when they are summoned or are simply visiting Val Royeaux."

"That sounds like quite a long walk to take so late at night. And you don't know weather he will be able to take you in?"

"I do not see why he would turn me away, but no I do not know for certain."

Rémonn turned back around and smiled as he extended his hand towards her. "Well I promise you two things, it is closer and you will not be turned away. Either choice you make though I will see you safe for the night."

Leliana smiled and looked down at a pool of light surrounding her feet. "I cannot."

"We have slept on the ground out in the wilderness for the last three months. You will not be a bother if that is what you are worried about."

"And you would trust a complete stranger?"

Rémonn eyed her carefully as she finally brought herself to look upon him once more. "Should I have a reason not to trust you?" he waited for her to respond but nothing came about. "So far you are one the few Orlesians who has yet to stare at me as if I was an abomination or King Maric himself. So I assume if I have not been run through or strung up yet my chances of surviving the night are as good as they could be, even with such a complete though quite divine stranger in my company."

Leliana slowly took his hand, enwrapping her arms around his as she looked up at him with a simpered expression. "You are quite the charmer, especially for one from Fereldan," she retorted in a jestful tone. "Though you may not know Orlais and Val Royeaux as well as you think."

"I know I would rather not stay any longer then I have to. It is not a place for one such as myself to come for a casual visit." Rémonn delicately pulled his arm away from her, he wasn't quite ready to give her his full trust yet. It was partly why he wanted her to come with him; he wanted more time to judge her, to see if she was who she truly said she was or if this was indeed some insidious plot laid out by Gautier or some other Orlesian noble who he looked at the wrong way. But the other reason he wanted her to come along was simple lust and he could see in her eyes that she knew, surely it wasn't an uncommon occurrence for a man to desire her. "Shall we go?" Leliana said nothing, simply gesturing with her hand for him to lead on and Rémonn quietly obliged. He looked back towards the tavern, the burly man still standing there against the wall, paying them little mind. Off to his right a ways from the center of the city, two campaniles rising high above the city stood tall and proud, inside each a large brazier shined brighter than strongest stars in the sky, the illuminating blaze possessing a hypnotic quality that seemed to calm his mind and soul.

"On a moonless night such as tonight you can see the fires of the Grand Cathedral from miles away," Leliana said softly.

"I remember seeing them far off on my way here. I had no idea what they were, it looked as if parts of city were burning." Rémonn replied as he recalled the eery sight.

"Have you been to the Grand Cathedral?"

"No, not yet anyways. Tomorrow Gautier asked for me to meet him there to finish a little business arrangement we have." Rémonn looked down at Leliana who was now pacing with him directly on his left. "Have you?"

"A few times. I try to go when opportunity allows it. A very peaceful place, calm and fairly quiet. A good escape from the bustle of the city. I may go there myself tomorrow if time and business permits."

"Is that so? Perhaps we can go together than."

Leliana looked up at him trying to pass a smile but to no avail, instead her face bore a grim look and quickly she turned away before he had a chance to notice. "I would like that," she whispered softly.

Kirvar slammed his cards on the table and began to rub his temples in frustration. "You are a sodding cheater and I am going to gut you before the nights over."

Liam started to jump up and down, giving off a coarse laugh as he took the copper coins that sat between them on the cheap pine table. "Cheat. Ha! Finally got your number and the only thing goin' to get gutted tonight is that purse of yours," his thick accent making his words almost meld together.

Kirvar made a deep growling sound as he reassembled the deck. "Shut up and cut the deck. I want my coin back," he ordered as he looked up at Liam with a grimace. The lanky man had changed out of his silk and into a beige sackcloth shirt and and pants, now looking much more like the person he truly was.

"I cleaned you out," Liam said as he calmed himself down. "How you gonna bet with no coin now."

"I'll bet the sodding clothes I bought you."

"We all bought those, not yours to bet."

Kirvar rubbed his temples again. "Then go downstairs and buy me a tankard of ale or four. I need a drink."

"Rémonn ain't want us drinkin' anything from this place," Liam muttered cautiously.

"Do you see Rémonn here? No. And when Rémonn's not here, I am the boss," Kirvar spoke sternly as he jumped up from his chair.

"Who says?" Liam asked defiantly. "Why can't I be boss?"

"Because aside from cutting a purse you can't do a sodding thing right!" Kirvar drew his long sword and watched as Liam scampered back in fear, smiling and chuckling at his fear as he returned his sword to it's sheath. "I will make you a deal. Every copper you spend on me tonight I will repay you with a silver tomorrow. Deal?"

Liam regained his composure and stood himself up tall, full of pride as if nothing had happened. "Really? You ain't just playin' me for a fool again are you."

"You are the sodding cheater here, damned thief." Kirvar made a quick motion with his hand as if he was going to draw his sword again and watched Liam rush off, breaking into a hard laugh once the lanky man was out the door. "Fool," he muttered to himself as he walked over to the one window. He popped it open and looked around, a small dirt road laid directly below lined with various wooden buildings, it was hard to believe this was the same Val Royeaux he had walked through a few hours earlier. Kirvar made another glance around the streets and the top of the buildings then shut the window and bolted it up. He turned about and sighed as he sat back down in his chair, looking towards the far corner of the room. A small wooden lockbox nestled against the wall, inside was their treasure, their ticket to a small fortune and an easy life. Quickly he rose from his chair and snatched the tattered cloth blanket off the bed and tossed it over the box.

"Here is that ale you wanted," Liam muttered as he pushed the door open with his foot.

Kirvar watched him casually stroll in, two tankards gripped in each hand. "Rémonn down there?"

Liam set the ale down and shook his head. "Barkeep hadn't seen him come back neither. Think we should go lookin' for him?"

"What for. If he is alive he will come back, if he is dead then he is dead," Kirvar said as he walked towards the table.

"He has the key."

"What you think we have one key?" Kirvar said with a smirk as he picked up a tankard. "Don't tell me you think we are as dim as you."

"Where is it?" Liam asked curiously as he picked up a tankard of his own.

Kirvar chuckled. "Like I would tell you, damned thief." Quickly he downed the tankard and threw it to the side, his face shriveling up as he spat onto the floor. "Sodding hell that ale tastes like bronto piss," he muttered as he spat again

Liam watched him and laughed as he set the tankard down, deciding it would be in his best interest not to guzzle it down. "How would you know what bronto piss tastes like?"

"Go down to dust town in Orzammar and drink that swill they sell you down there, you can find out for yourself." Kirvar spat a third time and sat down at the edge of the rickety bed.

"How 'bout some more cards?" Liam asked. "You win I'll give you some of that coin back, I win you have to drink a tankard."

Kirvar thought a moment and then smiled. "Alright, cut and deal. I swear though if I catch you cheating again I'm going to cut your throat and toss your corpse into the alienage, give the elves here a decent meal for once."

The streets of Val Royeaux were mostly still and silent within the darkness of the moonless night. A few souls wandering the streets, mostly patrols of three or four men. An occasional civilian would be spotted as well, most appearing to be simple peasants returning home after a round at their favorite tavern. In the dark night Rémonn's origin and appearance was unidentifiable and for the first time in days he was able to walk the streets without so much as a glare or any other conspicuous look and it gave him a chance to admire the majestic city.

"Quite an amazing city, a shame I have yet to have the chance to really explore it," Rémonn spoke, breaking a lengthy silence between them. She had been quiet aside from an odd word or two, seemingly deep in some thought. "So have you ever been to Fereldan?"

"No," Leliana stated simply and quietly.

"Have you ever thought of going there?"

Leliana shrugged. "I would love to see the world, to travel the many lands of Thedas. I would love to bestow my knowledge, to sing songs and share stories and to learn new ones from the various nations and cultures."

"Well you are a minstrel, is that not what your sort does?"

Leliana smiled. "The lucky ones yes. Most of us are simply servants to the lords of Orlais, here to preform at their beckon."

"That is, strange," Rémonn uttered."You are servants?"

"Not in the literal sense of course. But as with everything else the lords have their favorites who they must have performing at every ball and gathering they host. So while they do not own us, we are still theirs to serve and it is best not to turn down a request from a nobleman."

"And do you serve many nobleman?"

"I suppose I do." Leliana replied bashfully. "There are many minstrels far better and more popular than myself. But I have become endeared by a few."

"So can you sing a song for me?"

Leliana looked up at him and started to giggle, her face going flush. "Here? No, I am far to shy to sing for just one person. A crowd I do not mind, but for one person it is just so embarrassing. With a crowd there is no particular person I am trying to impress, just a sea of faces most of which I will never meet so it does not bother me so much. But for an individual there is so much pressure, especially for one I am trying to impress and I always choke and flush and end up completely embarrassing myself."

Rémonn smiled as he felt her body prop up against his, her satin dress caressing his arm with each step they took. "A shame, I would love to see what makes you so popular with the nobility here."

"Well, you have seen part of it already," She replied in a hushed tone. "But I shall sing for you before the night is over, I promise."

The scenery around them began to quickly change after passing through a small checkpoint. From carefully crafted buildings of fine brick and stone separated by cobblestone streets to wooden shacks and earthen roads. Elegant light poles replaced by occasional lamps dangling on the porch of homely workshops and houses, the world surrounding them smothered by blackness. The smell of the sea was pungent here; the aromas of sweat, salt, and rotting fish replacing those of flowers and fresh grass.

Rémonn found himself constantly looking back over his shoulders since they had entered the docks district. The feeling of eyes peering upon them haunted him and every time he turned back a silhouette could be seen standing deep in the shadows. They were being followed and there was little that could be done about it now. Weather it was a common thug of the docks or something more sinister unleashed upon them he couldn't tell and was not willing to risk his neck to ask. Leliana, now coddled besides him under his arm, would take notice of his frantic glances and inquired about his uneasiness, abruptly he would always reply with _''It's nothing''_. Eventually he stopped looking back all together, fearing whoever it was may become more aggressive if he felt his presence was known. Instead he focused on the path before him, on his right he could see towering walls with a wide dirt road sloped down towards a tunnel and gate that separated two sides. A couple of men stood outside the tunnel appearing to be some type of soldier which boded well for them, or so he hoped.

"I hate this place," Leliana muttered. "It has such a terrible smell."

"So you have been to the docks before?"

"Once. It was not a pleasant experience."

Rémonn laughed. "I bet." He released her from under his arm and took a few long strides towards a building to get ahead of her. "Here we are. Home sweet home, at least for the night." He opened the door and let Leliana walk in then followed suit close behind. Inside was a small tavern that stood between the door and the stairs to the rooms above, a few broken tables and chairs and a small bar with a couple of barrels of ale stocked behind. A pair of male elves stood behind the bar, one bearing a black eye and a busted nose and the other attending to his wounds. At the one good table sat three dark skinned men, sailors of some sort, each with a tankard in their hands eying Leliana as if she was the first woman they had seen in a lifetime. It was obvious they were silently sharing malevolent thoughts between themselves and Rémonn hovered his hand above where his dagger rested in his trousers.

"Look at this," one of them stammered as he rose from his chair, a lascivious look in his eyes.

Rémonn eyed the one who stood until he made a drunken lunge at Leliana. Quickly he pulled his dagger and situated himself between the man and his target, forcing the bewildered man to a halt. He began to eye Rémonn, no doubt trying to determine how much of a threat he actually posed. Rémonn however never gave him a chance to reach a conclusion, instead he swiftly grabbed the man by the collar of his beige cloth shirt and slammed him up against the wood wall, quickly placing the dagger firmly against the mans neck. He looked back over at the other two men who had jumped from their chairs but they stood there dismayed, then he looked back at the elves who seemed to be grinning in amusement. Rémonn returned his attention back to the man in his hand. He had a gangly and infirm appearance, his thin hair and beard showing signs of mange. Rémonn could see the fear in his dull brown eyes, smell it in his breath as he panted heavily. "Look at her funny and I will cut out your eyes, touch her and I will cut off your hands, speak a word and I'll cut out your tongue. Do we have an understanding?" he whispered harshly in the mans ear, watching him nod and then pushed him in the direction of his friends. He took a turn pointing his dagger at each of them and grinned before turning back around. Leliana seemed more amused than anything by the events as she quietly turned back around and made her way up the stairs, perhaps these occurrences weren't as foreign to her as he had thought. Then Rémonn glanced over at the elves who nodded approvingly before going back attending the ones wounds. Finally he took another glance at the three men who had slumped back down into their chairs, licking their wounds and stitching their pride.

Both Kirvar and Liam threw down their cards and jumped from their chairs as a loud noise came about from downstairs. Kirvar drew his sword and focused intently on the door, positioning himself along the wall. Liam rushed to the corner where he had set down his gear and snatched a pair of daggers then positioned himself opposite of Kirvar.

Kirvar set himself ready to strike as the door began to creak open. "You bastard," he muttered, loosening his stance as he watched Rémonn push open the door. "Almost took your sodding head off." He took a few steps forward then halted himself, raising his blade as he watched a woman follow him in. "No. No. No, no no no," he stammered on as he grabbed Rémonn and pulled him down to his height. "Are you mad," he whispered in his ear. "I told you not to do anything foolish."

Rémonn slapped Kirvar's hand away and stood back up. "Outside, I will be there in a minute," he turned around and looked towards Liam who was standing there staring at Leliana with his mouth agate. "Liam!" he shouted, watching the scrawny man regain himself before rushing out the door. Rémonn turned his attention back towards Leliana and smiled. "Sorry about that, we are all a little nervous. It is not much I know and certainly not what you are used to, but make yourself comfortable, I'll be back shortly." She acknowledged him with nothing but a simple smile and he turned and made his way out the door, gently closing it behind him.

"By the Stone man she has you wrapped," Kirvar uttered in frustration and he leaned back against the wall, his gaze glaring down at the floor. "What were you thinking?"

"I don't think she is the one we need to worry about," Rémonn replied.

"You are a fool!" Kirvar shouted, his eyes jumping up and meeting with Rémonn's. "You do not know a damned thing about her and you bring her here," he toned down his voice but the anger and frustration remained stagnant. "In case you have already forgotten we just blackmailed a family of nobles," he looked back towards Liam who was just standing there quietly eying the door to their room.

"How could Gautier set this up? That is the same woman I told you about long before Gautier joined us. Unless every one of those women are in his service than there is no possible way this is a trap."

"And would you doubt that!" Kirvar shouted, stopping himself as he watched the unwounded elf pop his head up above the stairs in order to investigate the commotion. "Get back down there elf! This is none of your concern!" He waited until he was gone then looked back towards Rémonn raising his sword up to his chest. "Even Liam would not do something this foolish."

"Hey," Liam muttered in disgrace.  
"Quiet," Kirvar snappily replied as he swung his sword towards his direction, his eyes however never breaking off from Rémonn. "Three months. For three months you have been scared of your own shadow. We have slept on dirt and mud, eaten nothing but roots and rodents and have drunk nothing but dirty water out bogs and streams. Why? Because you were too sodding scared to go anywhere near a town. Now that it is all finally over, we are half a day away from collecting our coin and making our way back to Fereldan and you determine now to be the best time to muster courage and risk it all for a night with a woman."

"Do you think I haven't been careful," Rémonn uttered in his defense. "Do you think I don't know what to look for, what signs to seek, what questions to ask?" He paused a moment to see if the dwarfs expression would change but the unsettled look remained. "You yourself told me I was overcautious."

"That does not mean you take home the first whore who smiles at you!"

"What is she going to do. Is she going to attack all three of us? Are you afraid that little girl is going best us if she does show to be something, else."

Kirvar grumbled and shook his head. "Do not let her move an inch out of your sight," he sheathed his sword and began leaning back up against the wall. "What did you say before, something about her not being the one we should worry about?"

"Someone was following us," Rémonn answered quietly. "Once we got to the docks I caught a glimpse of someone following us from a distance, I do not know who it was or what they wanted but they made no effort to hide themselves."

Kirvar eyed him and nodded. "It is the docks, you are walking with what looks like one of nobility. Might have been a thief coming out to see if he could cut a heavy purse."

"I don't think so," Rémonn replied. "As I said, whoever it was made no effort to hide themselves. It was almost as if they wanted us to know they were watching, waiting."

"Cutpurse don't need to hide," Liam said bringing himself into the conversation. "Knew some in Denerim that'd cut your purse in bright day, make no try at hiding it."

Rémonn looked between the two and sighed. "We have dealt with thieves and the likes before. This one would have had plenty of chances to strike but they seemed more interested in watching."

"Wonderful," Kirvar grunted. "I say we move. Find a new spot for what is left of the night, leave your woman here."

"What would be the point?" Rémonn asked. "They would be outside, still watching and waiting. They would follow us, might attack if they felt we were vulnerable enough," he pointed towards the end of the hallway. "It's not an army, if they did try anything here the three of us could defend ourselves well enough."

"And if your friend in there is working with them?"

Rémonn looked back at Kirvar and shrugged. "Then she dies with her countrymen."

Kirvar stared at him and smirked. "So why did you bring her here? You could have taken care of your business at that other place."

"Does it matter? She is here now."

"Hopefully not," Kirvar answered as he rose off the wall. "So is she here for the night or until the two of you get done?"

"The night," Rémonn replied shaking his head. "The three of us will stay out here. No sleep, be ready and be watching. Tomorrow we collect our coin, pay for passage on a boat, and make back for Denerim."

"Somehow I doubt it will be as simple as that," Kirvar muttered.

"I did not come all this way to fall short. Make yourselves comfortable, we have a bit before daybreak."

The dwarf shook his head but made no remark. Instead he opened the door and walked back into the room, grabbed the table and then turned around and made back for the hall.

Rémonn caught the leery look burning in Kirvar's eyes as he gave the woman one final glance before walking out. Once the dwarf was gone he turned his attention over to Leliana who was seated at the edge of the bed with her legs crossed, leaning back on her arms with a bare look across her face. He smiled but uttered no words as he took two of the chairs before making his way back to the hall.

"Have any coppers on you?" Kirvar asked as he watched Rémonn step through the door. "I need to get my coin back from this sodding bastard."

"Nothing," Rémonn replied as he set the chairs down around the table. "You actually lost to Liam?"

"Hard to beat a cheat," Kirvar grunted as he pulled one of the chairs up and took a seat with his cards in hand.

"You better not forget you owe me silver for those ales." Liam uttered.

"Keep talking about it and I just might," Kirvar snapped back. "How about we play for those silvers. Winner gets a bigger piece of the cut." He watched as Liam grinned and quickly took a seat across from him and began cutting the deck. "Do you want in or are you going to spend some time with your special friend in there?"

Rémonn sighed and rubbed the back of his head. "Sure, count me in. Just let me grab another chair." He turned and walked back into the room, immediately setting his eyes upon Leliana who had done nothing to reposition herself. That empty, almost disconsolate look remained on her face and again he said nothing. Rémonn wasn't sure what had led him to bring her here or exactly what he thought would come out of it, though he had hoped. Quickly he brushed the thought out of his mind and grabbed the third chair and slowly began dragging himself towards the door. _"_"_This is why I did not want to come",_" he heard the soft words spoken from behind. Rémonn turned around and saw her staring him down, those seductive baby blue eyes had seemingly changed into something so baleful. "Excuse me?" he asked in a dry tone as he found himself unable to move, unable to break away from her chilling gaze.

"I heard you and your companions speaking outside in the hall," Leliana answered, keeping a soft undertone in her words. "This is why I did not want to come."

Rémonn watched her head sink down so that her attention became fixated on the wooden floor below. "Nothing was meant to be..." He paused as he searched for a word to say or an appropriate apology to give. "You were listening to us?" was the best 'apology' he could muster.

"How could I not. The walls are thin and the dwarf..." She paused and sighed. "I am sorry. You have been, good to me."

Rémonn eyed her curiously as she went silent once more. "Right," he muttered softly, a little bewildered by her apology. "Well, I will leave you be for the night. If you need anything I will be right outside here."

"No. Please, stay," Leliana exclaimed. "I enjoy your company."

Again Rémonn found himself confounded. "Why?" he asked curiously, loosening his grip he had on the chair. "I am not exactly the same quality of man you are usually accustomed to."

"Quality?" Leliana spoke with a smile and laugh. "Do you mean the arrogant nobles who believe they are entitled to me simply because of their prestige. Or do have another meaning for the word 'quality' in Fereldan? Perhaps I am using the word wrong?"

"No, well." Rémonn stammered as he watched the baleful look in her eyes and bare expression across her face turn back into that warm and welcoming look he so fondly remembered. "I did not mean it exactly like that."

"Oh? So you meant it in a more, intimate way?"

"What, no. Of course not," Rémonn again stammered as she began to giggle at his fumbling of words. "Certainly not I am fine there, I think. Maybe we should just discuss something else."

Kirvar peered through the door and saw Rémonn standing there dumbfounded, staring intently at what he assumed was the woman. "Are you coming?"

Rémonn regained his composure and broke away from Leliana, turning his attention to the dwarf. "Go ahead and deal me out. I'm going to talk with her for a bit and then I'll join you two."

Kirvar shook his head as he watched the door slowly shut between them. "Another fool," was all he muttered as he slammed his hand of cards in front of Liam. "Deal."

Rémonn sat down in the chair he had drug, clasping his hands together and twiddled his fingers as he thought of his next words. "So why did you come with me?"

"You offered remember," Leliana answered with a smile.

"So you go with anyone who offers a bed for the night?"

"Of course not. But you are a friend of Lord Gautier and very few men no matter their nationality can boast such a claim."

"Gautier insists he is of little importance."

Leliana laughed and shook her head. "For a man of his stature he is quite modest. But do not let him fool you, his family has quite an influence here in Orlais."

"You know Gautier and myself, we are not what one would consider friends."

"You had his grace for the evening and he suggested that I accompany you for the night. Weather you believe yourself to be friends does not belittle the fact that he has some admiration for you."

"You do not know as much as you think."

"And I can say the same about you," Leliana promptly countered. "But it is not important. We all hold little secrets in our hearts."

"Is that so. And what secrets do you hold in your heart if I may ask?" Rémonn asked with a curious expression beaming across his face.

"One should not pry," Leliana replied with another soft smile. "They would not be our secrets to cling onto if we shared them so easily." She let a moment of silence linger to allow those words to sink in. "It does not matter, you are a good person, I can see that. From our words shared and time spent this eve, and the fact Gautier vaunted you so. Then of course your actions down stairs. I never did properly thank you for that, you are quite chivalrous after all."

"I am not sure I would say that, after all it was I who put you in such a predicament in the first place."

"Perhaps, but I willingly followed you into it."

Rémonn did not respond, instead he let silence once again linger between the two of them studying her face and reading her eyes, sincerity being the sole truth he could find. "Earlier, you asked if I would trust a complete stranger. Well, I am going to ask you the same question."

"And I believe it was you who responded by asking if there was a reason not to trust."

Again he gave her no response, instead he continued to eye her, watching that coy look come across her face as she turned away from his gaze. Rémonn wasn't sure what compelled his next actions but he rose from his chair and walked until he stood directly in front of Leliana. Softly he began caressing her cheek with his hand; the look in her eyes and the smile stretching across her face shifting lecherously. He took her hands and pulled her up off the bed and brought her close enough to where he could feel her breath on his face. To his surprise she did not pull away, did not struggle or defy his actions. Instead she abided to his will and silently acceded to his desires. Rémonn leaned in and pressed his lips upon hers and there they lingered until she slowly pulled away, repaying his affection with an inviting smile as she unhurriedly walked backwards and sat back down on the bed.

"So I take it we now have a certain level of trust between us?" Leliana asked but no verbal response came about. She watched as Rémonn took his shirt off and tossed it to the side, a small bronze key tied to a cord around his neck being the one thing of note. Gently he laid her on her back and fell upon her; the soft, delicate kiss they had shared before was replaced with those more out of passion and lust. She felt his lips slide between across her face and neck, his hands caressing various parts of her dress and body, the acts of affection making her smile and giggle. Eventually he brought his head away from and in response she pressed her finger against his mouth then gently push him back up. " I will show you how we do this here in Orlais," she said in a whisper as she positioned herself behind Rémonn who was now sitting at the edge of the bed. He made no arguments and gave no acknowledgment aside from an eager smiler. Leliana placed her hands on his bare shoulders and began to caress and rub them all the while softly kissing his neck, cheeks, and ears. "You look as if you could be such a handsome man, why do you not take care of yourself?" she whispered.

"Well, I have just been a bit, uneasy the past few months," Rémonn whispered back. "I like this."

"I knew you would," Leliana said with a little laugh. "It is good to put one at ease and to slowly keep building upon the anticipation, makes the night far more enjoyable. I did promise you a song before the night was over," she said once again whispering in his ear.

"You don't have to," Rémonn replied.

"Nonsense. I made a promise and I will keep it. Now let me see." Leliana asserted through her whispers. "I think this one will be fitting." She closed her eyes and smiled and she let the words and rhythm dance through her mind as she continued to attended to the man in her arms.

_'Lady, I am one of those who willingly endure your wishes, _

_so long as I can endure;_

_but I do not think I can endure it for long without dying _

_since you are so hard on me as if you wanted to drive me away from you,_

_so I should never again see the great and true beauty of your gentle body, _

_which has such worth_

_that you are of all good women the best._

_Alas! this I imagine my death._

_But the pain I shall have to bear_

_would be sweet, if I could only hope,_

_that before my death, you let me see you again._

_Lady, if ever my heart undertakes anything_

_which may honor or profit my heart,_

_it will come from you, however far you may be,_

_for never without you, whom I love very loyally,_

_nor without Love, could I undertake it or know it._

_Sweet noble heart, I am forbidden_

_to ever see you again_

_your fair sweet face_

_which put me on the path of love;_

_but truly I do not know_

_how I can expect_

_not to have to die soon._

_And if I must abstain_

_to give you pleasure_

_or else be untrue to you,_

_then I would rather keep my loyalty_

_and according to your will_

_die, if your heart wishes it,_

_than against your will_

_to receive complete joy_

_by viewing your beauty._

_Sweet noble heart, pretty lady,_

_I am wounded by love_

_so that I am sad and pensive,_

_and have no joy or mirth,_

_for to you, my sweet companion,_

_I have thus given my heart._

Rémonn listened to the haunting melody sung through her seraphic voice, the melancholy tune leaving a chilling feel throughout his body. Yet at the same time her voice made even the most sorrow of songs calming on the nerves and easing on the mind and it was almost frightening. As the lyrics flowed on and her touch sent him to a state of serenity one thought danced through his mind, considering the moment about to be shared between the two this was an odd song to find 'fitting'.

Any questions about that thought were swiftly answered. Suddenly he felt a cold piece of steel slide into his lower back as a soft hand clasped over his mouth and nose. His eyes widened, turning bloodshot as he found his initial reaction to break free impossible to obtain. She was stronger then her appearance would ever lead one to believe and with her hand gripped tightly on the small blade in his back any movement aside from straight forward made the dire wound worse then it already was. His fate was sealed and soon he accepted it as well as one could, his remaining strength diverted to his mind as he tried to answer the thousands of _'whys' _and _'hows"' _that were pothering his thoughts. _'Careless, foolish, oblivious, sloppy, remiss.' _All words he used to describe himself and his decisions in the waning moments of his life. He could feel his blood and saliva slowly building in his throat with nowhere to go and he made one more desperate attempt to break free before his own body subdued him, but it was a futile effort. Through all these thoughts and prayers swirling in his mind this woman had the audacity to continue on with her song, this sirens sweet lullaby gracefully whisking him to his grave.

Leliana went silent as she felt the mans body go limp in her arms, no more panicked attempts at breathing, no more violent struggles, no more tears streaming from his eyes. She sighed as she slid the dagger out from his back and gently lowered him so that he laid there on the bed peacefully. Rising from the bed she looked down on him one more time, close his eyelids and tenderly kissing his forehead as she cut the cord from around his neck and grasped the key in the palm of her hand. She peered around the room, in the corner a cheap cloth blanket sat crumbled with an obvious bulge in the middle. Leliana walked over and lifted the cloth, studying the small lockbox that had been covered by the tattered blanket. Carefully she opened it and pulled out a small, thin book that contained an assortment of loose parchments between it's pages, thumbing through them quickly to make sure it was what she had been tasked tasked with receiving. Once certain that this was indeed her objective she made her way back to the bed and used blanket to cover Rémonn's still body before making her way to the rooms lone window. As she began to unbolt the oil-parchment window she turned back around and stared at the door. Two more sat right outside, two who knew her face and would shortly know of her deeds. What was she to do, what would the others do, what would Marjolaine want her to do.

Leliana inhaled a deep breath and slowly let it back out as she made her way to the oil lamps hanging from the walls and extinguished each flame. Setting the book down she waited a few minutes for her eyes settle in with the darkness of the room and once she had a bit of sight within the blackness she positioned herself behind where the door would swing open. Again she sighed and started to play and position the blade between her fingers, letting her mind gather back up once more. "Would you two care to join us."

Kirvar looked up at the door with a stunned look as he heard the muffled words through the wall. "Guess she was too much for Rémonn to handle," the dwarf muttered as he slouched back down in his chair.

"You not goin'?" Liam asked anxiously.

"No," Kirvar stated as he stared back as his hand of cards. "I rather be out here," he glanced up at Liam who had an eager look in his eyes and shook his head. "Do what you want."

Liam neither question nor commented on the dwarfs words, instead he bounced out of his chair and opened the door to the room, slowly walking through the unsettling darkness. "Rémonn?" he called as the deathly silence in the room immediately put him on edge. The faint light from the hall managed shed away a bit of the darkness, allowing him to make out a bump underneath the covers. "Boss?" he muttered softly as he slowly crept his way towards the bed. Something was obviously amiss and he could see neither Rémonn or the woman he had brought. Once he reached the bed he peered around the darkness and then lowered his head as he pulled the blanket off the bed, vaguely seeing Rémonn lying there still as stone. Liam slapped his cheeks a few times hoping to simply find the man fast asleep. "Rémonn, you awake?" Suddenly the door creak and closed from behind and in response he quickly turned around but nothing could be seen through the pitch black room. Then out of nowhere a sudden pain shot throughout his chest, looking down he could make out the faint outline of knife hilt sticking out of where his heart would be. He gasped in horror as he looked back up ready to shout for help but before he could think of any single word to utter a shadow pounced from out of the darkness, lunging towards him with an arm crossed back over it's shoulder, and then nothing but darkness once more.

Leliana hovered over and circled the body on the floor for a moment, keeping herself in an aggressive stance as she waited to see just how successful her attack was. Aside from a few faint gargles the body no longer twitched or sounded. She relaxed herself and leaned down, fumbling across his body as she searched for her other blade embedded in his chest, the touch of warm blood and the mans cloth shirt now drenched by it made her cringe. Finally able to find the hilt she pulled it out and quickly turned her attention back towards the shut door. _''One more,'' s_he thought to herself as she pondered a moment on ways to lure him in. Deciding on nothing yet she walked towards the window, unbolted it, and pushed it open as far as she could. The faint glow of starlight alleviating just a bit of the darkness that shrouded the room. It wasn't much but it gave her a little more to work with. Her eyes bolted around various parts of the room, from the corners of the room to the rafters above, her mind formulating ideas in a desperate attempt to create a plan. She could not fail.

Kirvar sat there quietly, his eyes locked on the door and his hand hovering around the pommel of his sword. He felt his fears were becoming a reality, where sounds of love and passion should be heard there was nothing but recurrent silence. Still he continued to feed himself a sliver of hope; perhaps they were poor in bed, perhaps they just sat there quietly talking, maybe they threw her out the window. Something, anything.

Soon enough however the lingering belief in hope was gone as a loud crash came against the very door he was staring down. Slowly he rose from his seat, pulled his sword from it's sheath and sighed as he walked to the front of the door. There he stood for a moment, waiting to see if the elf or some other being walked up the stairs to investigate the sound, nothing. Taking in a few deep breathes followed by slow exhales he closed his eyes and readied himself then slowly pushed the door open. Immediately inside he could see pieces of broken timber from the chair at the foot of the door, no doubt the cause of the noise. Kirvar made a quick glance around the dark room, the faint outlines of two still bodies, one on the floor and the other on the bed answered the first of two questions he had. The only other thing of note being the opened window and he rushed towards it and began scanning the streets, franticly searching about hoping to catch a glimpse of the woman running away but there was nothing except the lifeless dirt streets and broken homes. A soft thud suddenly came from behind but before he could turn around to investigate he felt a short blade plunge through his leather armor and lower back and a soft hand being thrown over his face.

Leliana tried to gain control of the struggling dwarf, but between his short height and incredible strength she failed to gain any leverage on him and he quickly bucked her off. She stumbled back a bit before regaining her composure and pulled her second blade that was sheathed around her ankle.

The dwarf was down on a knee, coughing blood and spewing inaudible curses. "Sodding whore," was all he managed to speak with strength enough for her to hear. He spat blood one last time and rose to face her. A rage burned through his eyes and heart as he set himself in a battle stance. Kirvar gritted his teeth as he stared the woman down; her gold satin dress now wrinkled and drenched with blood, a short dagger wielded in her right hand her sole armament. He reached around his back with his free hand and pulled the other dagger now stained red with his own blood.

Leliana watched and waited for the dwarf to make a move. She kept herself on the balls of her feet ready to dance to the side if he came rushing at her like a bull. She was outmatched, badly. A dress and a dagger against an moderately armed dwarf, this was not the situation she wanted to find herself in. She continued to eye him, watching as he tossed her other dagger to the side and began creeping to his right. Slowly she backed away, hoping to entice him into making a careless and lumbering lunge forward where her nimbleness would prove to be an asset and her only strength. But the dwarf did nothing aside from continuing to slowly slide to his right and then Leliana realized he was no more than a crippled animal backed into a corner. Snarling and growling, flashing it's teeth in an attempt to scare away it's predator, but he was hurt and hurt bad. Leliana let her guard down and watched the dwarf do what he could to take advantage of it, a slow rush forward with his sword held high. With ease she moved off to the side and watched the dwarf stumble and crash down to the floor, his sword still gripped tightly in his hand. Carefully she made her way towards him from behind and quickly threw a hand over his face and pulled back his head. A mild struggle and inaudible vocals put to an end as she slid her blade across the thick neck of the dwarf.

She walked over and shut the door one final time and used a piece of the chair as a doorstop. Turning back around she looked upon her work, unsure what to really think about it. A queasy feeling soon began to settle in however, three bodies and the parts of the floor, the wood floor and bed stained red. She rubbed her face as she tried to calm herself down, unaware of the blood on her hands that she smeared across her face. Leliana shook her head and tried to push everything out of her mind. Quietly she sang a lamentation under her breath as she gathered herself once more and collected the book off the floor. One more glance around the room and a deep sigh once the words of her song came to an end.

Leliana made her way to the window, darkness still engulfing the city of Val Royeaux and for now that was an advantage. She was preparing herself to climb out the window when she reeled back in horror and shock. Quickly she fell to the floor and dropped the book, crawling to the corner and grabbing the dwarfs sword on her way. Directly below the window stood a ghostly contour, a shadow of a man peering directly up at her, sending a haunting chill that spread throughout her mind and body. She stayed back in the corner, sword clenched tightly in hand as her heart and breathing raced. Leliana did what she could to calm herself down but it accumulated to little success. She closed her eyes, tried to listen to the sound of footsteps coming across the hall, the creaking of the stairs or the opening of the door, the shouting of guards as they rushed to punish her for her deeds.

Nothing. Silence was all there ever was and all there would ever be. After what felt like hours she finally managed to calm herself down, her heart steadying and her breathing tamed. For the first time she let go of the sword and subtly she peered over the bottom edge of the window. The shadow was gone, nothing but empty streets and still buildings. She covered her face with her hands and let out what she hoped was a sigh of relief and tears of joy. Snatching the book once again and avoiding any visual contact with the bodies of her victims she turned and dropped herself out the window. The flimsy dress shoes did little to support her impact and she stumbled to the ground on landing. Quickly she rose and after a few fleeting glances to make sure she was unseen she darted off as fast as her apparel allowed through the back streets of the docks.

Eventually she came to a canal and brought herself down upon it's bank in order to catch her breath. In the calm water below she could see the faint reflection of one of the Grand Cathedrals burning campaniles as well as her own. Streaks of blood spread across her face like that of war paint, her hands stained and parts her gold dress now seemed to be dyed red. She quickly looked away from herself in disgust and stared at the flame dancing in the reflection. Peaceful, serene, mesmerizing. If only it was enough.


	4. Puppeteers and Poppets

_**Chapter Three **_

_**Puppeteers and Poppets**_

_''Ils ne seront pas heureux.''_

Leliana stared up into the hazel eyes of the elvish woman who stood before her, gently dabbing and stroking a wet cloth across her face trying to wipe away the dirt and dried blood. "Why?" she asked in the Orlesian tongue, the elf giving her no acknowledgment aside from a half smile. For a servant she was rather attractive, but that was the case with all who served under Marjolaine. She has exquisite tastes, surrounding herself with the finest things she could afford and that extended to the people she employed. "No one else is around, you can talk to me," again no response came. Leliana had known the elf, Ilya her name, since this place had become her home several years ago. Ilya was creeping up in age though she still bore a slender and youthful appearance; soft brown hair, odd hazel eyes, and the long, sharp ears. Other than her physical features however she knew little of the elf, they rarely spoke mostly due to the fact she was a servant and it was considered inappropriate for them to speak to their 'betters'. Leliana thought it rather silly but such was the way of the Orlesian nobles.

A deep sigh followed by a few glances around the familiar anteroom. Several plush chairs and small tables positioned in various spots along the walls which were draped with various sorts of tapestries and paintings, what parts of the wall that could be seen were covered with a bright red linen. Several oil lamps and candles placed on the tables and hanging from the walls gave the room sufficient lighting. Three doors, each one embedded into a different wall; one led outside to the streets of Val Royeaux, another led to a set of stairs which took one to the master and the attic, and the third led to a narrow hall which connected to various rooms. It was a elegant little home nestled within one of the finer areas of Val Royeaux.

Leliana jumped to her feet with her prize held tightly against her abdomen as she heard the door to the hall creak open. Ilya, taking her cloth and pale, scampered off to the shadows in one of the corners. Duralle was the first to enter, dressed elegantly in a bright blue jerkin, a smirk cracking across his stern face once he caught a glimpse of her disheveled appearance. Marjolaine followed in right after, her purple and white dress trailing on the floor behind as she walked passed Duralle. Leliana gulped and took a few steps forward with her head bowed to the floor and the book gripped tightly in her hands.

"Leliana," Marjolaine said softly. "I did not expect you to return until morning, is everything alright?" Her expression dimmed as the young lady stepped further into the light, her face streaked with dirt and bits of blood, parts of her dress blotched with red stains and smears, and her soft red hair clumped and messy. "Maker's breath what has happened to you? Are you alright? Is this your blood?"

"No," Leliana's words barely audible.

"I see," Marjolaine paused and smiled, feeling Leliana's trembling as she placed a hand on her cheek. "Do not worry Leliana, everything will be fine. Now," she slid the book from her tight grasp and signaled Ilya. "Go get yourself cleaned up and rest, I will take care of everything and then come see you." She watched a little smile crack through Leliana's bleak expression and with a nod the young lady followed Ilya through the open door. Marjolaine then turned her attention to Duralle who stood tall with his arms crossed against his chest and smug look in his face. "What?"

"Nothing," Duralle replied. "Just expected a little better from her."

"She retrieved what was asked for, that is all that matters."

"Is that so? The fact she snuck across half of Val Royeaux looking like that does nothing to upset you?"

Marjolaine gave no response and Duralle took the hint, leaving the room with a heavy sigh. She waited for the sound of his footsteps vanish and once silence came about began sifting through the various pages and studying the loose parchments, taking a few minutes to memorize what few important parts there were. After her curiosity was satisfied she made her way down the hall and turned into a large, dimly lit room. On the right a large ornate fireplace with a low fire centered as the rooms only source of light, in the middle sat a trestle table covered with a white cloth and topped with silver, a few elegant chairs positioned meticulously around it. At the head of the table on the far end a shadow of a man sat quietly and still, the light of the fire reflecting off of a silver and gold chalice that was grasped between his fingers. "Everything was done as you wished," Marjolaine said as she slowly walked along the edge of the table towards the man, a figure emerging from the shadows as she neared him. A large man wearing a burgundy colored gambeson, short black hair and a thick mustache covering his upper lip positioned himself in front of her and extended an arm commanding her to stop, snatching the book from her hands once she obeyed then quietly walked back to his master and handed him the prize before situating himself back into the shadows once more. Marjolaine took a few steps closer and eyed the man sitting in the chair, a handsome face with black hair slicked back and tied into a thick ponytail and a thin mustache. "You may wish tell your friend that if I wanted to kill you I need not be close."

Gautier looked up at her and grinned. "Oh? Perhaps he is here to protect you from me," he watched as Marjolaine glowered, obviously not taking his words with the jest that was intended. "Everything must be so professional with you." Gautier set down his chalice and looked down at the book in his hand, immediately noting a few bloody finger prints on the front and back covers. He sighed and slowly began thumbing through it; a journal detailing the dealings with various Orlesian aristocrats and merchants, contracts and promises with various seals stamped, including the ones of his family. "So did anything in here perk your interest?"

Marjolaine smiled, "I do not know what you are talking about."

"Come now, I know you better than that. Always looking for an advantage, gain a little edge to keep yourself ahead of everyone else."

"I have other ways of achieving that."

"Indeed you do, I have learned that lesson the hard way," Gautier set down the book and exchanged it for the chalice. "She returned awful quick," he muttered before taking a sip of wine.

"She saw an opportunity and took it which is exactly what she is expected to do. Would you have preferred she shared a nice breakfast with them first?"

Gautier took the book in his free hand, stood, and made his way across the room to the front of the fireplace, his eyes locked onto the glowing embers. "I heard it was quite messy."

Marjolaine eyed him curiously. "You had her followed?"

"You make it sound so sinister," Gautier answered as he glanced towards her with a grin. "I assure you it was simply a precaution."

"As you can see any fears you had were unwarranted."

"Perhaps," Gautier said, tossing the book into the fireplace and watching as the flames began dancing around, slowly engulfing and devouring it as if the fire had been starving for it. "However I am a bit disappointed on the methods your little protege employed. As I said, quite messy."

Marjolaine stood tall and folded her hands behind her back. "I do not believe that to be the case."

"Of course not," Gautier retorted with a chuckle. "The Waking Sea would have to run red with blood in order for you to consider something a mess."

"My expectations are higher than that."

Gautier stood there continuing to watch as the book continued to shrink and char. "I did not want them dead, I still had a use for them."

"You made no such request."

"If I wanted them dead I would have seen to it myself," Gautier broke his gaze away from the fires and focused it on Marjolaine. "Or are you simple assassins now? Kill on a whim, spill blood for pleasure. Must I now make special arrangements if I want one to live?"

"Of course not, but if it must be done for the sake of completing the task assigned than it must be done."

"Is that so? And it was best that they be butchered like animals?"

"It will keep them from talking."

"Talk?" Gautier asked rhetorically. "Should I be worried about two Fereldan's and a dwarf making accusations of treason and conspiring without a drop of evidence? Do you really believe any sane being here in Orlais would even give them a minute of the day?"

"Now you will not have to find out," Marjolaine retorted with a grin.

"I already knew!" Gautier shouted. "Instead your girl has gone and created a bigger mess than I had before," his voice toning down a bit as he returned his focus towards the flames.

"Does it matter? They were foreigners, it was done in the docks, who will miss them, who will care," Marjolaine replied, maintaining her calm composure.

"Fool of a woman," Gautier muttered. "Celene has been persistent about keeping her new found peace with Ferelden established. What do you think is going to happen when two of their citizens are found brutally murdered within Val Royeaux, docks or no." He took a sip of his wine, his hands beginning to tremble from a fearful thought. "That crafty woman will make this political, force this into something it is not. Someone will be blamed, someone will have their head stuck on a pike before this over. And who do you think is going to clean up this mess made by that girl of yours? I have to, I am stuck correcting your failures once again."

Marjolaine smiled as she watched Gautier once again turn his attention towards the fire. "You are taking this out of proportion. No one will shed a tear for a couple of thieves."

"Do not be so blind. This is perfect for her, she has been unrelenting with her dealings of peace and cooperation with that backwater country. She can pick out one of her enemies, deem them guilty, put them under the ax and remove a thorn from her side while simultaneously adding another small stitch to the wound that is our relationship with Ferelden." Gautier paused a moment as he stroked his chin. "I will not fall victim to that woman's game."

"You assume it would be you."

"I am not going to take that chance," Gautier asserted.

"Regardless," Marjolaine took a few steps closer to Gautier, his guard doing exactly the same. "The mission was a success and I do expect payment."

Gautier eyed her and laughed. "Success? That is what you deem a success? Three bodies piled on the floor of that disgusting inn. This is not what I want on my hands, this is not how I want business done. I am not funding cold blooded assassins."

"It was done because it needed to be done."

"Stop trying to defend her, you know her actions were sloppy and inexcusable."

"This was her first time alone, her first time put in a situation where she may have to kill. This job was unusual from the start and considering her inexperience I believe it is fair to grant her a bit of leeway."

Gautier's anger faded into shock. "You told me she was the best you have."

"And she will be. However she must start somewhere and this was the perfect opportunity, if I told you of her inexperience you never would have gone through with it."

"Really? What could have possibly given you such a thought," Gautier replied sarcastically. "This could have been a disaster for us both."

"I am well aware of that and that should tell you the level of confidence I have in her and her future."

Gautier sighed and began rubbing his temples. "Such a mess," he muttered to himself. "I will pay you half of what we agreed upon," this time directing his words to Marjolaine.

"You are going to try and cheat me?" Marjolaine asked calmly.

Gautier turned and pointed a stiff finger at her but held his tongue, he knew better then to push Marjolaine too much. "You know her actions are unacceptable," he uttered softly, not his original choice of words.

"You have what you wanted," Marjolaine proclaimed. "Could it have been handled better, perhaps. She is young, mistakes will happen."

"This mistake may cost us both a great deal before the night is over." Gautier finished off his wine and slammed his chalice on top of the fireplaces mantle. "You will receive half the payment and do not EVER forget the ones who made you what you are."

Marjolaine sneered at the comment but nodded in agreement, there was little ground for her to argue on. "Is there anything else? Or shall your grace be leaving us for the night."

Gautier leaned forward on his arm which rested on the mantle, his finger rapidly tapping against the marble as he watched the charred book crumble into ash. "Where is she?"

Marjolaine held her breath a moment, hesitating to answer. "She?"

"Do not play the fool with me, you know of whom I speak."

Again she hesitated a few moments before answering. "I sent Leliana to get cleaned and rest."

"I did not ask what she is doing, I asked where she is."

"Resting, as I said. She does not need to be disturbed."

Gautier watched as his guard drew his sword and began walking towards Marjolaine. "Sheath your weapon, you will accomplish nothing trying to scare her and she will see you dead before your blade fell," he listened as the sword quickly slid back into it's hold and then turned to face Marjolaine. "I do not care what she is doing and I do not care if she will be bothered by my presence. I will ask again, where is she?"

For a third time Marjolaine hesitated. She did not know what his exact intentions with Leliana would be but she had a good idea. It would do no good to continue vexing him though, it was simply delaying the inevitable. "The door at the end of the hall," she uttered as she took several steps towards him, glowering with anger. "Do nothing I will make you regret," she hissed softly.

Gautier laughed and sighed at the threat. "Alesax, stay here and keep Marjolaine company. I shan't be long." He gave Marjolaine a hearty grin as he passed her by, receiving a spiteful scold in return.

Gautier made his way into the hall and took his time crossing it, peeking at the various paintings and tapestries hanging along the two walls. He hesitated a bit, thinking about what he would do to fix this disaster, thinking about Marjolaine whom he had known her for many years. She was employed as a bard long before Gautier met her, their first introduction being at her wedding with one of his cousins she somehow managed to become engaged with. The marriage itself was extremely brief as her husband died a rather mysterious death a little more than a year after. The mages who attempted to treat him in his final days claimed it to be of natural causes despite the fact the symptoms were rather gruesome. Then a day or so after his death his corpse began to decompose in a strange and disturbing way, forcing them to burn his body without a proper ceremony, the mages however remained adamant that his death was natural. Of course this did nothing to quell the rumors and gossip which are passed around faster than wine and bread in Orlais. _'Marjolaine poisoned him for the dower and titles and bribed or threatened the mages to keep silent about it'_; was the most common one, though there were many other tales that got quite wild.Regardless of weather the rumors were true or not her name and face became prominent amongst the aristocracy, especially after the rather dirty fight that went on over her dower and claims, this of course fueling the rumors even more. After many threats from both ends and the realization she was going to get nowhere she soon slunk back into the shadows as a bard. Her new found infamy however had prevented her from finding many contracts or employers and the few times she did it was almost impossible for her to succeed. Eventually she managed to convince his family to release her dower in exchange for the renouncing of any claims she had. Once everything was settled she again slipped back into the shadows, but this time she remained there quietly. She never speaks of her marriage or the circumstances of her husbands death and when asked she simply remains silent. Oddly enough though she still bears her band, of course there are sinister stories surrounding that as well. While she claims she wears it 'in memory of the love and admiration she had for him', the rumors state that she had a copy made and had it hollowed out, using to discreetly poison her victims food and drink and that was how she got her husband. Weather it was true or not he did not know, but knowing Marjolaine as well as he did it was best not to put anything past her.

After much thought he finally made his way to the room mentioned by Marjolaine and gently pushed open the heavy oak door and peered into the small bed chamber. Leliana; dressed in a white silk robe with her skin and hair still glistening wet from a bath, sat quietly on her bed with a bemused look. As soon as he stepped foot in the room however Leliana regained herself and stood tall with a false smile, Ilya who had been cleaning up the bath dropped what she was doing and bowed her head deeply. "Out," he ordered the elf with a point of his finger. Quickly she ducked out of the room and once she was gone he slammed the door shut and turned his attention back towards Leliana. Gautier positioned himself directly in front of her, studied her for a moment, then began slowly circling her several times before halting once more in front of her face. "Vicious, malevolent, catty," he let the words bombard her for a moment and then gave her a sly smile. "You enjoy the taste of blood?"

Leliana stared into his eyes, unsure of the nature of the question implied. "No, no my lord," she faltered in a hushed voice.

"Is that so?" Gautier inquired. "From your work tonight I would assume differently."

Suddenly she realized exactly what this was about. Was what she did wrong though? If it was wrong what words could she say, what could she do. Where was Marjolaine? Why did she leave her alone with him? "I did what I had to do my lord."

Gautier nodded at her words and smiled. "Of course you thought out and explored all other possible solutions."

"I," Leliana hesitated as she tried to come up with a suitable response. But what did he want to hear, what was he trying to break out of her. "I only did what was asked of me my lord."

"Asked of you? Did Marjolaine order you to kill them?" Gautier asked.

"Yes, I mean no. She did not say to kill them, I, that decision was my own," her words once again stammered.

"You do not need to protect her. If you were simply doing what you were told than that is that."

"She told me this might prove difficult, she told me to take advantage of the first opportunity and to be prepared to do whatever I must to see this through."

"I see," Gautier stated simply as he took another step closer. "Tell me. Did they have to die?" He waited a moment to give Leliana a chance to answer but none came. "Answer me!"

Leliana's eyes widened as she reeled back in dismay from the cacophonous order. "No," she said softly as soon as her composure returned.

"No," Gautier echoed. "Then why are they dead?"

"I. I panicked. I thought they were becoming aware of my intentions," her words once again stammered.

Gautier nodded and smiled. Gently he took the young ladies chin in his hand and began to to study her as if she were some farm animal at a fair. She was scared, he could feel her quivering in his hand and it widened his smile. "Do not act so frightened, fear will only lead you to an early grave." he whispered before leaning forward and kissing her, holding just long enough for him to garner her taste. Once satisfied he slowly pulled away, continuing to hold her chin in his hand. He stared at her; a smile breaking out across her face, a mask covering her feelings of suspicion, shock, and fear. Her icy blue eyes bouncing wildly in their sockets, trying to study him, read him, break him. She was out of her element here, everything out of her control, everything happening so fast, a paralyzing fear preventing her from making any reaction. She was weak and his to do whatever he willed. Gautier contemplated as he continued to study her face, debating about the situation at hand and what, if anything, should be done. Eventually he let her go, watching as she quickly took several small steps back to give herself some room. "You understand this is unacceptable. You do not kill unless you are ordered to kill. These people did not need to die, if anything their deaths now further complicate my situation. You are not some simple assassin bred with the sole purpose of drawing blood, understand."

"I do, forgive me," Leliana said sternly, a sigh of relief coming about once he had released her from his grip.

"And on top of it all you were seen."

Leliana held her breath and nodded her head. "Yes."

Gautier shook his head. "For your sake you should be glad it was one of my men, otherwise you would already be dead and my family left with plenty of questions to answer."

"Again, forgive me my lord."

Gautier sighed and stared at her once more; her fear appeared to have subsided a bit, no doubt from the knowledge that the witness to her deeds was an ally. "You certainly are a pupil of Marjolaine," he muttered softly. "That is partly why I expected better though I suppose it isn't entirely your fault." He took a step in her direction matched by a slight reaction on her part. Once more he gently took her chin in his hand and locked his eyes onto hers. "Aside from your rampant bloodlust you did well tonight." Gautier watched as a sigh of relief came from the young lady. "You had the man wrapped tightly around your fingers, chasing you down in the streets and offering to escort you wherever you wanted, keeping you safe in his arms, or so I am told. Tell me, do you have any regrets for his death?"

"No," Leliana replied bluntly.

"Good, good," Gautier grinned as he released her. "Just remember what you are. Subtlety and deception are the only weapons you need, not steel and iron."

"I understand."

"You need to learn to use this," he said as he taped his finger softly against her head. "And this," he said as he gently glided his hands down the frame of her body, coming to a stop when he felt a hard object against her calf. He lifted her robe just enough to reveal a small sheathed dagger tied around her leg. Gautier pulled the dagger and rose back to his feet, holding the blade close to her eyes. "And never this." A look of fear once again beamed from her eyes as Gautier held the dagger there for a minute to allow his point to come across. "Blood for blood," he whispered in her ear as he pressed the dagger against her neck. "Consider yourself fortunate this eve for it could have been much worse for us all," he said, pulling the dagger back and tossing it on her bed before slowly taking a few steps back as he gave her a warm, comforting smile. His words and wraith had no doubt established a fear of him within her mind, and that was a good thing. "I believe Marjolaine wanted you to rest, I would suggest not going against her wishes. Oh and do make sure she rewards you properly." Gautier turned and opened the door then took a step out before turning back to look upon her once more. "Enjoy the fruits of your success my dear and please try to have a pleasant night."

Gautier casually made his way back towards the main room bearing a smug grin. He wanted to take his time, continue to let Marjolaine stew and squirm as she speculated on his intentions. While he knew better than to outright challenge her he made sure to shove her and her underlings around every once in awhile. Few members of the nobility dealt with the bards in person, most would send their tasks across two dozen or so messengers and through various liaisons and proxies, doing everything in their power to conceal their identity. Similarly most bard masters refused to deal directly with the nobility and never revealed themselves to anyone aside from a few trusted people. '_Shadows playing with shadows'_ as his father would say. Still, there were always a few on both ends who had no qualms with maintaining more direct association as it did have it's benefits. The master had a steady client and would usually receive quite a bit of information that their competitors would not be so privy about. The noble would receive much of the same as well as the added benefit of usually not having to worry about that particular clique taking any jobs that were put out on their family, a valuable perk for one who received more pleasure and thrill from living then from sleeping with a beautiful temptress who may very well be looking to slit your throat before the dawns rise. Because of this he established himself with the few masters willing to deal with him personally, to him it was safer to be in the lions den where he could watch them skulk about rather then out in wild where they were always silently stalking their prey.

Marjolaine however was one who preferred the shadows, the limelight she so craved in her past was no longer of interest to her. Instead she sat back in the darkness and pulled the strings as the gossip and stories of her past faded away into obscurity and her relevance amongst the aristocracy dwindled down to nothingness. It was nothing like the flamboyant Marjolaine he remembered years ago and he was unsure of what to make of it. She rarely allowed herself to be seen with her two proteges and seldom interacted with the aristocracy. The only reason she tolerated him as she did was because of their past relationship.

As Gautier walked into the main room he immediately set his gaze upon Marjolaine who had not moved an inch from her spot. He watched her eyes as they shifted to his hands and over his body as she searched to see if something was amiss. Gautier smiled and walked back in front of the fireplace looking down at the book he had tossed in earlier, nothing but soot and ash remained. As he stood there he felt a pair of eyes piercing the back of his head, he didn't need to turn around know it, he could feel it. He let a few more minutes of silence linger, letting it crawl under her skin and peck away at her mind and patience. "Three quarters," he finally spoke.

"Three quarters?"

"Your payment, I will make it three quarters of what we originally agreed upon. It will be delivered here in a day or two."

"If I may be so bold, why the change of heart?"

Gautier shrugged. "I may have been a bit brash before. She is a lovely young girl, quite skillful," slowly he turned back around to face Marjolaine who looked as if a immense weight had just been lifted from her shoulders. "Though the whole hidden dagger thing is rather trite, would you not agree?"

Marjolaine smiled. "Once must always be prepared."

"Well try to ween her away from that, hopefully we can prevent another incident such as the one tonight from happening again. I do also suggest you keep a leash on her for now, she was not what one would consider discreet."

"I will have her perform some simple work for a time until you assure me she is safe," Marjolaine said.

"That will be fine. Now, we need to find whomever it was that circulated this information."

"Do you not already know?" Marjolaine asked.

Gautier shrugged. "For certain no, but I have a suspicion. If they were still breathing it would have been easier to confirm this suspicion but since this is no longer the case."

"How do you know they simply did not steal it?" Marjolaine interjected.

"It is obvious they did, going by their appearances they had been in hiding for a time. How they came about it I do not know, but it is obvious they knew who had it and what it was. The only bit of knowledge on any of the three was that one served as an agent for a Bann in Ferelden, but it was not one we had any dealings with."

"Who would have had such information?" Marjolaine asked, intrigued by the situation.

"I do not know, my father dealt with everything personally and I was not privy to who knew what or which people received certain details," Gautier paused a moment as he played out a few different scenarios in his head trying to make sense of what little there was. "Someone has conspired against my family, that I know for certain."

Marjolaine eyed him with a quizzical look. "That seems to be a rather bold assumption. They could have simply stumbled upon whomever had it, taken it, and figured it out for themselves."

"No," Gautier said. "I do not believe that to be the case. They knew far to much to have simply stumbled upon it and put it all together."

"But you said yourself it is obvious they had stolen it, one does not hide in the wilds for months on end unless they are forced to."

"They could have been contacted by whomever had it in their possession. They could have been informed of what it was, perhaps tasked with something surrounding it and decided it would be more profitable for them to just take it for themselves and blackmail me."

Marjolaine chuckled. "So you truly believe there is some plot against you rather than this being a case of some petty thieves turning into extortionists?"

"Why not?" Gautier asked. "That information was quite damning for my family as well as several others. This isn't something one just happens to stumble upon and instantly puts as all together, there are no actual names listed only seals and stamps and no Fereldan would know who's is what. It is true I do not know exactly how they got involved, they could have been hired on to deliver it somewhere, escort someone who was tasked with it, perhaps a bard stumbled upon it and they swiped it from them," he smiled at Marjolaine. "Surely you know nothing of that."

"Of course not," Marjolaine snapped. "I have nothing to gain and far to much to lose from your downfall. But you know this and you apparently already have a thought to this conspirators identity."

"A thought, yes," Gautier replied with a smile. "I will find out for myself if this thought is indeed correct and if it is," he paused a moment and leaned up against the mantle of the fireplace, staring once more into it's embers. "I want them dead. I want their family to sit there and watch them die a slow, agonizing death. I will brook no traitors amidst my graces and I want that to be known. Anyone who takes even a false step in my direction will suffer."

"I thought this was not what you wanted on your hands," Marjolaine said with a smirk.

"I hold no qualms of shedding the blood of those who deserve it," Gautier said, signaling for Alesax to follow as he walked as close to Marjolaine as he would ever allow himself to be. "It is late and I am tired so I shall take my leave. I do have a nasty little mess to clean up after all and I should attend to it before the hounds of her majesty sniff it out and start dragging the bones home," he shot Marjolaine a light smile as he started making his way out of the main hall. "I may have something for you in a couple of months and I would advocate laying low until that time comes but Maker knows it would do no good so until then adieu my fair lady."

Marjolaine watched the two men walk around the corner and disappear behind the stone walls. She let a few minutes slide by and then hurriedly made her way towards Leliana's room, curiosity catching the better of her. "Why are you still awake?"

Duralle stood near her door, his back up against the wall and a smile across his face. "My apologies. I was simply checking on Leliana. Gautier did seem rather upset and, well."

Marjolaine scolded him. "Do not concern yourself with her." The man gave her no acknowledgment, instead he simply passed her by and walked down the hall to his room. Once he was out of sight she slowly opened the door and walked in. Immediately she set her eyes on Leliana, the young lady sitting at the edge of her bed twirling a blade in her hand, a lost and bewildered look in her eyes. "What did Gautier do to you?" she asked bluntly.

Leliana looked up at her with a moiety smile. "Talked," she spoke with soft words.

"What about?"

"Tonight." Leliana paused as moment as she debated weather or not to press on. "Why did you ask me to kill them?"

Marjolaine sighed and sat besides her, snatching the blade from her hands and setting it down to the side. "It had to be done," she stated simply.

"Why though? Lord Gautier said," Leliana dropped her face into her hands as she tried to turn her thoughts into words. "You told me they had to die," her words muffled by her hands.

Marjolaine rested a hand on her back sensing her uneasiness. "I know, forgive me," she spoke quietly and she stroked her hand across Leliana's back trying to calm her. "You must understand though, there are times when we must take such drastic actions. I wanted you to experience this first hand, I wanted you to learn young so you would better understand and accept this."

Leliana raised her head and faced Marjolaine, comforted by her warm smile and empathetic expression. "Why them?"

"They were nothing but vagabonds, scoundrels of another land blackmailing and extorting our nobility. These were not righteous men Leliana, they were scum and knaves who challenged the wrong people. They took a blind step into the wolves den and for that they were punished. The punishment I chose just happened to be ideal for a lesson given their circumstances."

"I still don't understand," Leliana muttered softly. "Surely nothing they did warranted death. Lord Gautier said as much."

"Hush Leliana, you act as if you have known these people your whole life. As I said these are not righteous men, none of the people we conduct business with are righteous. They connive and conspire against one another, doing whatever they must to put themselves ahead of those who should be their friends and allies. One must reap what they sow and at times we are asked to see that come true," Marjolaine paused a moment to gauge Leliana's reaction and acceptance of her words. "I understand what you are going through, I felt lost and confused as well when I was asked to end ones life for the first time. It just seems like such a despicable and unnecessary act. But overtime you come to learn it is simply done out of necessity and you come to accept the fact that as misguided as it may seem, it is the right thing to do."

Leliana nodded her head. "And Lord Gautier?"

"Do not worry about him, he is my problem not yours." Marjolaine put her arm around Leliana's shoulder and pulled her close. "I know there is more to this then you originally thought, but know it is people like us who keep Orlais from crumbling beneath the arrogance and pettiness of the aristocracy. We use our services and skills to serve and assist the nobility but we also keep them in check, doing what must be done for the greater good, for ourselves, and for others. Do you understand?"

Again Leliana nodded and smiled. "I understand."

"Good. You are a beautiful and talented young lady Leliana, and more importantly you enjoy what you do. I see you, I can tell by the way you smile and laugh when in the company of lord or lady, the thrill you feel and the look in your eyes when you realize they are yours to do as you wish, oh how you love it. You have just learned so much in our years together and I am so proud of you Leliana," Marjolaine released her and slowly rose off the bed. "Now get some rest and put this night behind you. Tomorrow I will give you some coin and the day will be yours to do as you wish."

"Thank you." Leliana watched Marjolaine walk out and close the door behind her. She rose from her bed and put out the candles lighting the room and removed her robe before laying down in her bed and wrapping herself in the covers, turning her head on the pillow towards the small window where a faint glow could vaguely be seen. Day was breaking, light slowly ebbing away at the darkness engulfing the world around her. A smile crossed her face, a real smile, the first since she had taken the lives of three men she knew nothing about. But this night was finally coming to an end and everything seemed as if it would be alright. Perhaps Marjolaine was right; no of course she was right she had never steered her wrong before. Still, she found it difficult to drift off to sleep. This had been the longest night she could remember and as exhausted as she was she could not force herself to sleep. Faces and words continued to haunt her mind, images clear as a picture coming about whenever she closed her eyes. Leliana laid their still and silent, staring out the window and admiring the coming dawn.

Eventually her exhaustion enervated her enough that she drifted off to sleep, a night of sin and blood dying away with the last of the evening stars.


End file.
